Treading Water
by hbcooper
Summary: When Gambit goes missing, Jean-Luc looks to Rogue for help, pulling her into a dark and dangerous world that threatens everything she holds dear. Romy, along with something else.
1. Chapter 1

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: This story came from an awesome idea by reader SDiablo, and I thank them very, very much for their suggestion! Normally I don't do requests, but this was too good not to be written.

This is ultimately a Romy story, but takes some dark, twisted turns to get there. More angry than angsty, you may end up hating me for a while as we go along, but I promise the end will be worth it. Definitely for mature audiences only thanks to some good old fashioned sex and violence.

Takes place after the end of the last Gambit series, and during the first few issues of Uncanny Avengers (vol. 1). Rogue has control of her absorption abilities, no Wonderman in her head, and Logan is still alive. Having read the Gambit arc with Joelle and the Zero Compound (#9-11) would be helpful for following the story, but hopefully not necessary.

As always I write with very minimal accents, lay it on as thick as you need to in your own head.

Happy reading!

* * *

 **Treading Water**

 **Chapter One**

 _"Rogue?"_

Natasha Romanova, the superspy and Avenger known to the world as the Black Widow, didn't even look up from the rack of frilly dresses she was flipping her way through. "We are being watched."

I stiffened but followed her lead, kept digging for deals. Natasha and I were hardly what you would call friends, but in an effort to get to know my new teammate, I had suggested a girls' day. I should have known better, secret agents as good as her didn't get days off, not even one lousy afternoon to herself.

"In the sale racks at Barneys?" I quipped. "Geez, sugar, can't take you anywhere…"

Her lips formed a small smile. "Actually, I believe he is one of yours. Men's ties."

My eyes trailed casually across the store until I found who she was talking about. _Damn._ I nearly cussed out loud and felt my skin flush at the sight of the familiar face pretending to paw through the meticulously arranged stacks of neckwear.

She held up a taffeta red confection like she loved it, though I was sure it had been forever since the Black Widow had actually bought anything straight off the racks. "I'll head for the dressing room like I'm going to try this on. You stay put, and I'll circle back around. My guess is he'll move your way once I am gone."

I plastered on a huge fake smile and nodded like I loved her dress, too, and went back to the rack in front of me to keep up the charade. Out of the corner of my eye, Jean-Luc LeBeau, trying his best to act like your average shopper, proved Natasha right within five seconds of her walkin' away. The former leader of the New Orleans' Thieves Guild and the adopted father of my ex-boyfriend Remy, the X-Man Gambit, sidled up next to me.

"Not what I would pick for you, petite," he murmured, motioning to the outfit in my hands. He produced a green mini-dress from the rack that had potential and smiled slyly. "Perhaps something a bit more…provocative?" The front of the dress when he spun the hangar to face me had a neckline so low you would have seen my belly button.

Irritated, I grabbed the dress from him and stuffed it back where it came from. "What do you want, Jean-Luc?"

There was a time I had thought without a doubt that this man would someday be my father-in-law. Though Remy and I were currently on the outs, I had hoped that we'd be back on sometime real soon, but for that to happen, we would actually have to talk to one another. I hadn't heard from Remy in weeks. Our last breakup was mostly my fault. I was the one who had wanted time alone to sort out my feelings for him, and to give me time to get a handle on my newly controlled mutant powers, but I wasn't too stubborn to admit I had made a mistake. I may have made the breakup necessary, but that didn't make the hurt go away, didn't make me love him any less. Unfortunately, if things worked out like I hoped, and Remy and I picked up where we left off, that meant I had to hold my temper the best I could with this man, though Jean-Luc always did his best to get under my skin.

Tilting his head, he placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Now, Rogue, why do I have to want something from you? Can't a man just say 'allo to a pretty girl?"

I raised an eyebrow and put a hand on one hip. "Please, sugar. When have you ever just paid me a visit? I'm surprised you got my attention before I went into the dressing room this time…" Years ago, in some Salem Center boutique, Jean-Luc had busted in on me wearing nothin' but my unmentionables.

His smile became a smoldering simmer. "A memory I hold close to my heart as well, petite."

I opened my mouth, prepared to make a scene, when the Back Widow melted from the sea of clothing and stood right behind Jean-Luc.

"Get to the point, thief," she ordered, and he winced.

"Didn't take you for a comedian, Romanova," he gritted his teeth, and I could only assume Natasha was pushing the tip of a hidden blade into his backside.

"Nat, it's all right," I urged. Last thing I wanted was a brawl between the two of them in the middle of a Manhattan department store. She met my eyes, hers nothing but hardened steel honed over the course of a very long lifetime, but stepped back.

Jean-Luc sighed and relaxed, straightening the collar of his jacket. Rarely flustered, he cultivated a persona of easy charm and grace that harkened back to the bygone era of mustachioed swashbucklers like Erol Flynn, but the Russian beauty had clearly ruffled his feathers. He mumbled some gutter French out of the corner of his mouth, too fast for me to understand, but Natasha clearly did. Her eyes flashed murderously and she moved towards him.

Hastily, I grabbed his arm and yanked him to safety. "I'll meet you back at the mansion, sugar," I called to her over my shoulder, and pushed his grinning ass through the crowds, leaving a fuming Natasha in the dress department. So much for making friends with my new teammate. I'd be lucky if she ever talked to me again after this.

Jean-Luc's boisterous laughter echoed through the revolving doors and onto the crowded sidewalk. I kept an arm snaked through his and maneuvered us across Broadway and down West 76th, steering him towards Central Park.

"Do all LeBeau men have a death wish?" I hissed, after a few long and silent blocks.

He stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk, and his face, usually a mask of cool charisma and sophistication, was grim, worried. "You may be more right than you know, Anna."

Not many people called me by my given name. I had gone by Rogue for so long that it was a natural for most people. Except for Remy, my friends and family tended to only use Anna when they really wanted my attention, and Jean-Luc had it. My stomach lurched. The last time Jean-Luc had looked me up, Remy had gotten himself into a whole heap of trouble, and I knew he must be knee-deep in it again. I motioned Jean-Luc across Central Park West and we weaved through the throngs of joggers and tourists into every New Yorkers' favorite slice of green.

"What's he done this time?" I asked, afraid of any answer he would give me.

"It's what he hasn't done. He's been on a…job…of sorts…for the last couple of weeks, and hasn't made contact."

I wasn't happy that Remy the hero, Remy the teacher, was still pulling jobs for the Thieves' Guild, but that was an argument for another day. "That doesn't seem that out of the ordinary, sugar. If it's a complicated heist, Remy always told me you guys are incommunicado, right? So you don't blow your cover?"

He smoothed his moustache while we walked. It pissed me off that he was clearly deciding how much he wanted to reveal to me, even if he thought Remy was in serious trouble. "On a normal job, oui. This is different. This was me and him. Off the books."

"You and him?" My temper burned my throat white hot. "What bullshit did you pull him into…"

"Not my bullshit this time. He came to me."

I flinched. Remy still kept his secrets, even after all these years. You would think it wouldn't still sting, but it was hard not to feel hurt knowing someone I loved with all my heart and soul continued to keep so much locked away from me.

Jean-Luc kept talking. Either he hadn't seen the look on my face or had chosen to ignore it. "He came to me for information. He wanted to check out a lead, but his sources weren't giving him the kind of help he needed. I was able to access some of the Guild networks, and, working together, we were able to piece some things together, enough for him to start. A friend of Remy's, she died while he was trying to help her, had information on a chemical weapon, something called the Zero Compound? There were many in our line of work that had wanted to get their hands on that particular cocktail. This friend was a woman named Joelle…"

A fist of ice closed over my heart. Joelle. I had found Remy half-dressed with her hands all over him. We hadn't been a couple at the time, and I really had no right to be jealous of who he spent his time with, but I couldn't help it. I loved him, and I knew he loved me, we just couldn't seem to make it happen at the same time, but Joelle? She was the first woman in a long time that I saw as real competition for his affections, enough so that I had confessed my love to him like some kind of psycho ex-girlfriend. Remy had been happily surprised at my revelation, but before we could sort anything out, we had been interrupted by assassins sent after Remy and Joelle by the mobster Tombstone.

Tombstone had wanted the compound for himself and Remy had taken him on man to man, but it had been Joelle's sacrifice that had won the day. It had hurt more than I had wanted to admit when I had found them together, but I knew it had to have hurt Remy deeply that Joelle died, especially if he was still fighting for her all these months later.

I pitched my voice low and dropped with a thud onto a park bench. "Joelle destroyed that weapon, and the Avengers went and cleaned up all the leftover data hidin' in Hydra's base."

He joined me, draping his lithe form easily next to me, and shook his head. "Remy thought so, too, but he forgot about the last surviving flunky who had worked on the original project, some mid-level schmo everyone called Shakey, last seen in the tender clutches of one Lonnie Thompson Lincoln, Mr. Tombstone himself, before Remy blew the albino's club sky-high. Shakey's whereabouts be currently unknown."

Jesus H. Christ. The Zero Compound was created by agents of Hydra, chasing the secret of immortality for Baron Von Strucker, but it did almost the opposite, killed the supposedly un-killable by breaking down the carbon bonds in atoms, blowing them to smithereens in the process. It had the potential to wipe out millions if it fell into the wrong hands.

"So, what, you came to me to get the Avengers to mop it up?"

He held up a hand. "Not just yet. Word is, someone be lookin' to resurrect Hydra's research, but so far, all we found are whispers and rumors. Remy may be chasing smoke, from the sounds of it this Shakey didn't have the necessary clearance to cause such a big fuss. But, you know my son, leap first, look later. Me, I'd hate to embarrass you in front of your new teammates if we was jus' cryin' wolf…" He winked at me and I crossed my arms over my chest. "He went to dig up something more concrete before we brought it to you and your bosses."

I narrowed my eyes. "But, you were worried enough to come to me?"

"He missed our last arranged contact time."

"You were his backup?"

"In case something went wrong. Remy's a pro, I taught him how to handle himself, but his lack of communication is…concerning. Last time we spoke he was in Spain, and had a promising name for me to research, a Salvador Garcia. Billionaire shipping magnate with aspirations to be the Spanish Tony Stark, if Tony Stark dabbled a little more frequently in the criminal underworld. I traced the man and his money to the Mediterranean Coast and the port city of Valencia. Figured I'd take a trip across the pond and see what I can dig up."

"Gee, that's awful convenient, sugar. Did you know I inherited a beach house right on that coast?" I smelled a smooth Cajun setup.

Like Remy, I had been adopted and raised by less than reputable folks. My foster mothers Raven Darkholme, Mystique, and Irene Adler, Destiny, had loved me as much as they loved each other, but since Irene's death, Raven and I had been less than cordial, or however you wanted to sugarcoat her trying to kill me a handful of times. I had been the sole beneficiary of Irene's will, and she had made sure I would never be left cold or hungry again.

Jean-Luc smiled that smile all LeBeau had mastered, the one stolen from the devil himself. "Really? You don't say…"

Leaning back, I slung an arm over the back of the bench. "Why do you always have to beat around the bush, Jean-Luc? If you want me to come, all you gotta do is ask."

"If it's that easy, petite…" With a wolfish grin, he reached out and tucked a loose curl behind my ear. I rolled my eyes and backed away from his touch, but his eyes twinkled at our little game. He was an incorrigible flirt, just like his son, but I had always enjoyed giving it right back to him. "Your powers, Remy said you got a better handle on them these days? You can sneak a peek into people's minds without knocking them unconscious?"

I took his hand in mine, pressed his knuckles to my cheek, and used my mutant power, the ability to borrow a persons' thoughts, memories, and gifts with just a touch. For most of my adult life it had been out of control, the slightest brush of bare skin triggering the transfer, and I had kept myself locked away figuratively and literally from those that cared about me, including his son, keeping everyone at arms' length to protect them. I had a handle on my powers now, and life had relaxed in ways I never knew it could.

Sneaking a look into Jean-Luc's thoughts was wading into dangerous territory. I blushed furiously at the fantasies playing out in his mind, the newest ones starring yours truly and that low-cut green dress. "Jean-Luc," I whispered, "I was almost your daughter-in-law. You shouldn't be thinking about what kind of panties I have on…"

He laughed a loud bark of a laugh that frightened a nearby jogger into tripping off the sidewalk. "I love it!" He clapped his hands together. "Then, Rogue, cherie, would you be so kind as to accompany me to Spain? Find that rude son of my mine and teach him some manners?"

It was a game to him, even when it came to Remy's life and the lives of potentially millions. I would go, but I sure as hell wasn't leaving the Avengers out of the loop on something this big. I would talk to Logan, Wolverine, while I packed.

"And if I would be so kind as to put your sorry ass up in my beach house?" My home in Valencia had been left in a sad state after a battle with the X-Men's old foe the Shadow King a few years ago, but I had remodeled it as good as new. Just hadn't been there to spend any real time, like most of the properties left to me by my foster mother.

He grinned again. "How's your Spanish, petite, cause your French be a little rusty!"

I shot him my best heartbreaker smirk. "Sugar, I can speak anybody's language, so long as I get my hands on them first…"


	2. Chapter 2

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

I flipped on the kitchen lights and threw my cross-body purse down onto the gleaming counter. Days of playing Rogue the tourist had gotten me big, fat nothing, and I was ready to scream. I sighed and freed my hair from an overly perky ponytail.

Valencia was a beautiful city and I had never spent enough time here, or at any of the homes Irene had left me in her will, but after pounding the pavement, pretending to go sightseeing while I kept eyes and ears out for anything on Remy or our lead Salvador Garcia, I was starting to feel like I never wanted to see this place again. This city had brought me nothing but grief and a broadsword through my heart thanks to that asshole villain Vargas.

After leaving the states, we had taken civilian modes of transportation to Spain, Jean-Luc insisting we keep the Avengers' footprint to a minimum until we figured out where Remy was and what the hell was going on. He had flown using an alias passport, but my identity was pretty public thanks to my new job, so I acted like I was on vacation, and headed to my beach house, Jean-Luc following at a discreet distance.

Logan and the rest of the Avengers' bigwigs had given their blessing for me to come along, but only if I kept them posted on anything out of the ordinary. Their intel and computers had found nothing about the man called Shakey or any other leftover data on the Zero Compound, but even a rumor of something so powerful was worth our attention, even if Remy hadn't been the one to stick his damn nose right in it.

They also hadn't found anything on Remy himself, and I told myself that didn't necessarily mean anything. He was a thief at heart, disappearing into the shadows was part of the job. Still, I had been blowing up Remy's phone like crazy with no response, and my stomach twisted with the worry I had been swallowing.

Shaking my curls loose, I headed for the massive stainless steel fridge in search of an ice cold beverage. The kitchen around me was state of the art since the remodel. Remy loved to cook, it was one of his favorite hobbies, so when I had modernized after the house was nearly destroyed, I had him in mind for the kitchen's eventual design. The space had an island and room for a large table, a butcher's block, granite counters, a six burner gas stove with two ovens, dishwasher, stand up mixer, Martha Stewart would have crapped her pants at the gadgets lining the counters and cupboards, but it all seemed like such a waste if Remy wasn't here to share it with me. Lord knows I couldn't cook worth a damn. Baking, no problem. Throw some ingredients together and leave it be, then poof! Cookies! Pie! But to stand and babysit a saucepan full of sizzling vegetables bored me to tears.

Remy apparently hadn't learned his love of cooking from his father, so Jean-Luc and I had been living off take-out for the few days we'd been here. A rap at the sliding glass door that emptied onto the back of the property drew my attention. Speak of the devil. Jean-Luc's smile, highlighted by a neatly trimmed moustache, was bathed in the fading light of the sunset. He held up bags laden with white cardboard containers and I hauled open the doors for him. He sauntered in and deposited his armload on the counter while I silently pulled out plates and silverware.

"The tour of Asia continues, ma petite." Cracking open one of the containers, he inhaled deeply and smiled again, his eyes twinkling over the rising steam.

I leaned over and took a whiff. The spice rolling off of it brought tears to my eyes. "Holy cats, sugar!" I coughed and stepped back. "Thai food?"

He set the carton down with a flourish and retrieved another from the plastic sack. "Oui. Don' worry, I requested yours have no flavor."

I stuck my tongue out when he handed me mine. "Excuse me all to blazes if I'd rather my mouth didn't go numb!" Damn Cajuns and their spicy food. I preferred not to sweat while I ate, thank you very much.

Chuckling, he selected a bottle of wine from the few I had on hand and poured us both hefty glasses.

"Pinot and pad thai?" I smirked. "Is that the correct pairing, M'sieu LeBeau?"

Raising his glass, he chinked it against mine. "It's liquor. That's correct enough for me."

The food smelled delicious, but I wasn't really hungry. Was never what you'd call a stress eater, usually felt sick to my stomach when my nerves had the best of me, and tonight was no exception. I twirled the silvery noodles in circles on my plate.

"I struck out today, big surprise there."

He nodded, tucking into a dish so thick with Thai Peppers its sauce was a solid, menacing red, and pointedly ignored my tone. The discussion was the same every night since we had gotten here, but no matter how loud I voiced my opinion, he chose not to hear what I had to say, so I was just gonna have to keep saying it.

"Still don't see why we have to split up. You know Remy ain't anywhere near the tourist district. You're sending me out on a wild goose chase!"

Jean-Luc swallowed, dabbed his moustache delicately with his napkin, and took a very long sip of wine. He exhaled slowly. "We've been over this, Rogue. My contacts will only deal with me."

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "You could get so much more from those contacts if you let me use my powers on them! How else are you gonna know these people ain't lyin'?"

"Mon Dieu," he muttered, "my son always said you were a stubborn woman…"

That got me more than a little riled up. I stood and leaned over the table, absolutely fuming. "If you don't need me or my powers, why the hell did you bring me!?"

Reclining, he crossed one long leg over the other and tented his fingers. "Patience, petite. I never said I didn't need you," his eyes strayed from mine to ogle my angrily heaving chest, which I realized was giving him quite the show, "and I never said I didn't need your wonderful powers."

Standing up straight, I crossed my arms over my breasts and narrowed my eyes at him. One more thing the LeBeau men had in common, they could make me livid and weak in the knees with the same smile. "Then, let me help," I huffed. "I'm goin' crazy here. I need to feel like I'm doin' something useful to find Remy!"

He shook his head. "We cannot be seen in public together, petite. You're too recognizable."

"Then throw a wig on me!"

"A little role-playing? I never knew you were so adventurous…"

The withering stare I laid on him would have made any normal man's balls shrivel to dust, but Jean-Luc merely grinned that maddening Cheshire-cat grin. In disgust, I snatched my wine glass and turned away from him and towards the kitchen sink. Downing it in one giant gulp, I followed the burn all the way down to places that shouldn't have been afire. Jean-Luc was a devastatingly handsome man, got under my skin like few people could, simultaneously infuriating and fascinating, but I had no business falling for his charms. This was Remy's father…

He was suddenly behind me, standing much too close. When his warm hands caressed the bare skin of my shoulders, goose bumps rippled the length of me and I shivered. He spoke, his mouth so near to my ear that his moustache feathered the skin.

"I am sorry, Anna. I'm not meaning to belittle you, or what you bring to the table."

I set the wineglass on the counter and turned around, pushing him back with a palm to the middle of his firm chest.

"One thing Remy failed to mention, petite?" His hand brushed a stray white curl back behind my ear. "It's the oldest cliché, but it just happens to be true. You're never more beautiful than when you're angry."

I closed my fingers around his and dislodged them from my hair. "We were talkin' about not belittling me?"

Those eyes twinkled again and he brought my hand to his lips. "Oui. Got a lead today I think you can help me wit'."

My heart thudded wildly. "Garcia?" He had been chasin' down the one name Remy had given him, Salvador Garcia, for days. The look on Jean-Luc's face told me I hit the nail on the head.

"Tell me, petite, have you ever considered becoming a blonde?"

* * *

That was how, less than twenty-four hours later, I found myself holed up with Jean-Luc in a Valencia hotel just this side of sleazy.

With just a little rattling of his local contacts, Jean-Luc had discovered that our lead, the criminally leaning businessman Salvador Garcia, was holding a soiree at The Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias, The City of Arts and Sciences, and we were inviting ourselves. The Center, located closer to the Port of Valencia, was too far from my home, which was further down the coast on the outskirts of the city. That kind of travelling distance wouldn't work with our plans for the evening.

"Perfect," Jean-Luc murmured and turned me back to the mirror over the cracked and peeling vanity. "Even your own mother wouldn't recognize you…"

"You don't know my mother…" I retorted, but the comment died on lips painted bright scarlet.

Jean-Luc was an artist. Though hardly the first time in my life, the woman that stared back at me from the mirror was a complete stranger. I was normally too recognizable to pull a decent undercover job. My hair, a frizzy cloud of auburn accented with a white stripe, was as unique as a fingerprint. I had gotten my way and vetoed the blonde hair, and the jet black wig now hiding my signature mane shimmered into a blunt bob, the bangs of which cut a severe line over my own green eyes, unfamiliar in a haze of smoky grey shadow. The magic Jean-Luc had worked with a makeup brush was subtle, but effective. Contouring hollowed my cheekbones, and my nose and chin looked slightly more angular. I looked dark and dangerous, a match for the femme fatale Black Widow any day.

Jean-Luc smiled over my shoulder and I turned to him. "I prefer your pretty face as it naturally is, but you been on TV too much lately, petite." He exhaled loudly. "My turn. Your dress is in the closet." His eyes regarded the neckline of my motel robe. "You need any help gettin' into it?"

I pushed him away from me, but smiled under my new eyelashes. "I think I can handle it."

He waggled a finger in my face. "You shouldn't keep setting me up like that, Rogue."

"It's not my fault you're so easy, sugar…" I shimmied my hips and closed the bathroom door on my way out. We were both playing the game now, drowning our worry and frustration in a back and forth flirting that had me blushing every other line. There had always been an attraction between us, I couldn't deny that. Who wouldn't be attracted to Jean-Luc? He was striking, charismatic, a scoundrel but a gentlemen, he made you feel like you were the only woman in the room, the only woman in the world. It had always begun and ended right there because we both loved Remy LeBeau.

Teasing each other was a welcome distraction, but the heat seemed to be gaining intensity in the hemmed in space of our hotel room. The suite, for lack of a better term, wasn't top of the line, but at least there were two queen beds. He had more class than I had given him credit for, though staring at the dress he had chosen for my disguise, I would maybe have to retract that statement. I sighed and laid it across the bed.

The dress, if you could call the scrap of fabric Jean-Luc had procured a dress, was red, blood red, short as sin, and cut down in a deep v front and back, twin slits runnin' up the sides. I hoped his damn magician's makeup kit included a whole lot of double-sided tape, 'cause there was no bra that was workin' with that neckline. I let my robe pool in a puddle at my feet and picked up the hangar. When I turned to face the mirror over the room's desk, I heard a splash.

By accident, or on purpose, the bathroom door hadn't latched. Jean-Luc's reflection, the lower half of his face lathered in shaving cream, razor poised in one hand, stared at me wide-eyed. I moved the dress to cover my nearly naked body, but the look in his eyes sent a surprising ripple of desire along my bare skin. Not dirty or depraved, his gaze trailed over me with a worshipful need so raw I could almost feel his hands on me, and my body responded with a warm, slippery ache. His face shifted to that of a guilty man, and he stretched up and pushed the door shut, leaving me breathing harder than I should have been. _Mercy._ What the hell was that? Our teasing was one thing, but I loved Remy. Why was I lookin' at his adopted father like he was water in the desert?

Ignoring it, I stepped into the dress and did a bit of maneuvering to get the zipper done and the ladies tucked in. By the time a newly moustache-less Jean-Luc emerged from the bathroom I was strapping on sky-high stilettos. If I hadn't been there for the transformation, I wouldn't have believed the man that stood before me was Jean-Luc LeBeau. Think George Clooney in _Oceans' Eleven_ , clean-shaven, slick like wall-street in a five thousand dollar suit, his brown hair and eyebrows woven through with strands of silver.

"What you think, petite?"

I moved towards him and stretched a hand to his smooth face, but hesitated. "How long since you shaved it off?"

"Long enough I didn't remember having a scar underneath." He pointed to a puckered pink line that ran close to his upper lip. "Funny thing is, pretty sure the scar is why I grew the moustache in the first place!"

Smiling, I lightly touched his jaw, and my fingertips grazed his newly barren lip. "I kind of like it. Makes you look sophisticated."

That devil smile split his nearly unrecognizable face. "Nobody ever accused me of such a thing…" His tone was amused, but his voice had a huskiness to it that hadn't been there before. My fingers stilled, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. Another inch and our bodies would be pressed against each other. I shivered, and Jean-Luc swallowed. "I think we're ready," he whispered. "The sooner we find Remy, the sooner we can get out of this hotel, eh?"

Remy. The seriousness of our situation washed up and over me again and I mentally kicked myself. Remy LeBeau, the man I considered the love of my life, could be in mortal danger and I was playing it too close with his father of all people. Maybe I really was Mystique's daughter.

"One more thing, petite. The perfect finishing touch." He reached into an inner pocket of his sleek suit's jacket. "Hold out your hand."

I raised an eyebrow and did what I was told, but instead of placing the object he had retrieved into my palm, he draped a dazzling ruby and diamond bracelet on top of my wrist.

I couldn't hold in my gasp. "Are they real?" Rubies the size of nickels, each circled by a ring of diamonds, marched in line.

He flipped my hand over to hook the clasp. "All but this one." His finger lingered on the stone to the right of the catch. "This bracelet ain't just for looks. It's a tracker, in case we get separated. You pop the diamond circle like this…" He pushed the ruby down with his thumb and pulled up on the diamond ring surrounding it. The ruby pulsed and warmed steadily against the thin skin of my wrist, feeling a lot like a cellphone on vibrate if you added heat to the equation. Jean-Luc held up his own arm. One of his cuff links was a match to my new bracelet. "We not gonna be able to use our cellphones in there wit' out them being traced. These work like that old kids' game, hot or cold…if one of us gets in trouble, or finds Remy, pop the ring and the other's stone with vibrate and get hotter the closer you get to its partner."

I brushed my fingertips along the hundred grand wrapping my wrist. "So, you _are_ expecting trouble?"

"Just like to be prepared, petite."

Looking up at him from under my lashes, I smirked. "Prepared? Didn't take you for a boy scout, sugar."


	3. Chapter 3

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Early update this week! Thanks for the enthusiasm so far, even if this story makes some of you nervous. Believe me, it makes me nervous, too! But, it should be a good ride...Thanks again for the reviews!

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Gettin' into the City of Arts and Sciences proved to be the easy part of our evening.

The sprawling cultural complex sat in the heart of Valencia, ninety acres nestled at the end of what once was the Turia River and filled with a collection of buildings that were each an architectural marvel to behold. The main events of Garcia's little soiree were being held in the El Museu de les Ciencies Principe Felipe, an interactive science museum, in a building that looked a lot like the skeleton of a whale, and judging by the heavy security in and around the aluminum and glass structure, it was our first and best shot at finding our target. The man was showin' off on an epic level. In a coup only those with obscene amounts of money could ever hope to achieve, Salvador Garcia had commandeered the entire compound for his charity function. The buildings were open, by invitation only, to the best and brightest, the richest of Spain, and hordes of limousines and ball gowns swarmed the sidewalks and suspended walkways, sparkling against the water that reflected the night sky.

With a little finesse and no small amount of luck, one of Jean-Luc's anonymous contacts ushered us past the security barricades, and we blended into the teeming crowd.

"I know subtlety ain't one of you X-Men's strong suits," Jean-Luc grumbled, "but we gotta try to look like we belong. We're not exactly on the guest list…"

The master thief had gotten us inside the whale by disabling an alarm on a back entrance leading into a kitchen storage area. We had separated, easier to cover more ground that way and overhear more conversations. I slunk through the shadows until I merged with the frantic wait staff hefting out trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, and took a long look around at the crowd filling the vast space of the first floor's main gallery. It was beautiful, lit softly with strands of twinkling lights wrapped in gauzy fabric, and all the tables were decorated in white and silver and clustered beneath the regular museum show pieces, giving those who sat sipping bubbly an interesting and up-close view of the exhibitions one would normally stroll right on by. Money, money, money oozed from every corner, wasn't a person in there that didn't look like they had stepped straight off of Gucci's runway. In one corner, a full band played a Samba for a handful of dancing couples on display, in another some poor woman with sushi covering her nether regions lay perfectly still on a table and pretended to be a platter, though she was skinny enough she looked like she could have used more than just a bite of what she was peddling. Kind of made me sick to my stomach to see that kind of decadence flaunted at a _charity_ event. What kind of an asshole was this Garcia? The cost of just one of those gowns would have fed some poor starving family for a month!

I pushed aside my rising temper. We had business to attend to, and I knew the plan. We needed to mingle and eavesdrop to find our host, but easier said than done. There were events in each of the complexes' buildings tonight, all stroking the ego of the man of the hour, but we needed a way to find him so we could get the hell out of there before any uncomfortable run-ins with his security. If I could get close enough to Salvador Garcia or one of his flunkies, I could flirt my way into their heads and hopefully get whatever information Remy had been looking for.

Liberating a flute of champagne from one of the darkly handsome servers, I barely stopped myself from blushing at the salacious look the man gave me. The scantiness of my dress hadn't been merely for Jean-Luc's amusement. Old trick, most guys in the place wouldn't be lookin' at my face, lessening the chance I could somehow be recognized, but that didn't make me the most comfortable gal in the world.

There were close to two thousand people parading their way through the scientific exhibitions that were scattered over three floors. This little get-together looked to be the place to be seen, sure enough, but where was the guest of honor? Nothing to do but search the crowd, but I figured I could use a little help. Another fine-looking server stopped with a flourish and offered up a tray of crab puffs. I smiled graciously and touched his bare hand with mine on the side of the tray when I took one. He smiled back with teeth bright white against his tanned skin while I snuck a little Spanish from his brain. I was hungry, I almost always was, even if my nerves didn't want me to eat, but I resisted the urge to wolf down the tasty little treat. The dress I was wearing left very little wiggle room and the last thing I needed was bad breath.

"Nicely done," Jean-Luc was suddenly next to me, and steered me by the elbow deeper into the swarm. The room's conversation had opened wide to my newly bilingual ears. It was mostly garbage, the flotsam and jetsam of small talk, but the crash course courtesy of my powers was enlightening to say the least. Too bad it wouldn't be permanent. A woman I now recognized as Spain's biggest fashion model, wrapped in the barely green nothing of a Prada dress, stepped aside, and I caught my first glimpse of our prey.

"Dead ahead," I whispered through a smile. Jean-Luc squeezed my arm to signal he saw Garcia as well. Spanish Tony Stark was right. Slicked back black hair and a goatee wrapped a mouth full of pricey and glittering white veneers, the man even had a beautiful but serious looking red head at his side. Besides his bodyguards, the rest of the crowd surrounding him looked like they had stepped out of that old Robert Palmer video. Y'know, _Simply Irresistible_? Bored brunettes in skimpy black dresses with lips painted blood red hung on the man's every word.

"Got an idea." Jean-Luc breathed against my ear. "I'm thinkin' you be just his type tonight, petite." He took my champagne glass and hors d'oeuvre. I said a silent goodbye to the tasty looking morsel as he set it on the tray of another passing server. "Let's see if we can divert his attention, shall we?" He snaked an arm around my waist and led me out onto the makeshift dance floor.

Despite not bein' able to touch anybody for a huge and lonely chunk of my adult life, I could say with no small amount of pride that I was a damn fine dancer. I had always been able to move to the beat, and years of training had enabled me to follow anybody's lead. I wasn't really surprised to find that Jean-Luc was about as smooth a dancer as you could wish for, and we blended seamlessly together as the band shifted their tune into a tango.

"Make it look good, Rogue," he sighed against my neck.

His hand on the bare skin of my back was an infuriating distraction, but I had a character to play to catch our host, seductress, temptress, and used that to inspire our dance. On each turn, I kept an eye over my partner's shoulder and through the throngs of people. After one particularly low down dip, we had definitely caught Salvador Garcia's attention. Jean-Luc brought me back up and spun, flashing an indecent amount of leg the billionaire's direction. Part of me was miffed we were usin' my body as bait, but for Remy's sake I would swallow my pride or worse. We sashayed back and forth, telling the tango's story with an increasing passion. Soon, we were the only dancers left on the floor, everybody in the damn room had stopped to watch us, but I was ignoring our growing audience, unable to keep my attention off Jean-Luc. He was an amazing dancer and moved with a seasoned grace, secure in himself and his steps. Wherever he steered, I followed, and soon we were nailing complicated twists and turns, making them look effortless. He pulled me so tight against him I could feel his heart hammering against my chest.

"I apologize in advance, Anna…"

I opened my mouth to question him, but he turned us, and I felt his hand trail to the small of my back and keep going. He spread his fingers over the curve of my backside and down, his fingertips finding the slit of my way too short dress. On his way back up, he pulled the hem with him and flashed the whole room my thong clad behind. _Son of a bitch!_ I twisted his wrist away from me and shoved him, hard. Before I could stop myself, I smacked that LeBeau smirk right off of his face and stomped away in an embarrassed huff.

I locked myself in a stall in the nearest ladies' room and leaned my forehead against the inside of the door. God dammit, I had probably just blown it, caused a scene big enough to get us kicked out when they figured out we weren't supposed to be there. Showin' off my goodies just like I was that sushi girl naked on the table. T'hell with Jean-Luc anyway, I would find out what I needed without him and without my body as the currency. There was using me to get attention and then there was abusing me, and he had crossed a big line.

I opened the door and nearly jumped out of my skin. The red-headed woman who had been at Garcia's side was standing in front of the sinks with her hands clasped in front of her. Her black dress was no-nonsense, but looked absurdly expensive. Standing next to her made me feel cheap and gaudy in my tarted up outfit.

"Good evening. English?" she asked expectantly.

I stood beside her and washed my hands, sparing a quick look in the mirror to make sure my face had returned to its normal color and my wig was on straight. "Either," I replied in Spanish and she nodded.

"The man you were dancing with, is he your companion?"

I was so pissed at Jean-Luc that I let fly the first words that came to my mouth. "He most assuredly is _not_." I angrily ripped paper towels from the dispenser.

She nodded curtly. "Excellent. My employer was concerned for your well-being, he did not wish to upset you further by ejecting the man from the premises." I turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "My employer also wishes to apologize. He does not tolerate such rude behavior, and it was discovered the man did not have an invitation…" She tilted her head and I wondered if she knew that I didn't have one either. "If you would come with me, Mr. Garcia wishes you to join him in private for a drink."

I followed her from the bathroom and two giant ponytailed bodyguards flanked us on our walk through the halls. A couple turns and staircases later, and she knocked softly on an office door guarded by two more behemoths.

 _"Enter."_ The forceful command made me jump.

She pushed open the door, the office of the museum's director according to the gold plaque that flashed by my eye level. A large desk and a seating area were tastefully arranged in front of an entire wall of floor to ceiling windows that opened onto a small balcony level overlooking the gardens of the complex. Salvador Garcia rose gracefully from where he had been perched on the edge of the desk to greet us.

"Come in," he beckoned us forward in nearly unaccented English, but inclined his chin towards the woman with me. "Ms. Salt, I would like a word alone with our guest."

Ms. Salt? Jesus H. Christ, Tony would bust a gut when I told him about this wannabe….Pepper Potts' doppelganger looked ready to argue with her boss, but she bowed stiffly and motioned the bodyguards out with her, leaving the two of us alone. Something told me Garcia was a man who always got his way, and the thought sent a brief shudder through me.

Other thoughts turned to Jean-Luc. I wondered where he was and what this guy's goons had done to him. I was still pretty angry at him. If he had gotten a little roughed up, it wouldn't hurt my feelings none, but he had been right on about our host. Judging by the bottle of bubbly chilling in an ice bucket on top of the desk, I was absolutely Salvador Garcia's type.

"Would you like a drink?" He wasn't exactly _my_ type, a little too tan, a little too slick, but handsome as hell, square jaw, dark eyes, tall and muscular. I could see where other women would fall all over themselves just to be as close to him as I was.

"Thank you." I took the offered glass but just pretended to sip it. Last thing I needed was to get roofied by a Spanish playboy. "And thank you for jumping to my defense back there. Your assistant said you kicked that man out?" It was hard work keeping my own accent flattened out, but I was doin' a damn fine job thanks to the lingering Spanish I had borrowed, the tones gave my voice a different edge.

"Yes. He has been removed for his uncivilized behavior. Perhaps next time you will take better care when strangers ask you to dance."

"Or when they ask me to have a drink with them?"

His big brown eyes danced and his arresting face split into an ivory filled grin. "Touché, my dear! Come, let us admire one of the best views in the city." He gestured towards the balcony.

I could see what had once been the end of the River Turia below us. Another of the campuses' buildings, the stunning L'Hemisferic, an enormous structure intended to look like an eye, stretched its girth lazily along the banks and winked at us. "Beautiful," I murmured and leaned against the balcony, dangling my champagne glass over the railing.

"Indeed." I swung my eyes towards Garcia, only the view he had been admiring wasn't the night sky. His eyes followed the neckline of my dress all the way south. "What did you say your name was?"

Stepping closer to him, I put a little extra pout into my smile. We were wading into dangerous water here and I needed to grab ahold of his skin while I still could. "I didn't. It's Marie." My middle name. Close enough. Sticking by the truth always made lying a little easier.

He inched his face towards mine, his greedy eyes devouring my curves. "Curious thing, Marie. I have some of the best security in all of Europe, yet somehow two uninvited guests crash my party. Tell me, do you believe in coincidences?" He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers along my jaw and I pulled for all my miserable powers were worth.

A jumble of twisted images gushed into my mind, his office, his apartment, laying out his tuxedo for the party, Salt, pictures of a shipyard, of grave markers…I tried to process it while I kept my head above water.

He grabbed my chin roughly and forced my eyes to look at his. "Was that little show back there for my benefit, _Marie_?"

Dark and debauched thoughts flooded my brain, thoughts of me and him, his filthy fantasies of pleasure and pain, of bending me over that railing until I begged for mercy and then some. My breathing quickened and my face burned. Garcia was a dangerously wicked man and we had pissed him off, had made a fool of him in front of his city's upper crust, and he wanted us both to pay.

"Who are you?" he hissed. "What do you want?"

In his head, the picture of a face I knew well bobbed to the surface, two red on black eyes, along with an enormous ship, a name, the _Veritas_. Oh, my God! The bastard had Remy!

Garcia backed me up against the railing and pinned me there, crushing his body against mine. "Cat got your tongue, _Marie_? No matter. When I am through with you, I will know all of your secrets…"

"Likewise," I growled and ripped his consciousness from his body. He slumped forward, dead weight in my arms, but I held on a little longer, desperately pawing through the murky depths of his mind. The real Tony Stark certainly had his share of demons, but Iron Man had nothin' on that son of a bitch. He was into some twisted shit, not the kind of things I liked to welcome into my brain, but I kept digging. Beneath the money laundering, beneath the S&M, beneath the drug smuggling and dead bodies and chemical weapons, was a debt owed to a terrifying man with a ghostly pale face that made Garcia shake in his boots, a debt that would be paid with one final delivery…

"Ouch!" The homing ruby against my wrist burned red hot and broke my concentration. Jean-Luc and his cuff-link had to be close, but where?

"Pardon the intrusion, chere…" Jean-Luc dropped lightly from the sharply angled roof onto the aluminum floor of the balcony. "But if you got what we need, we best be movin'." He stepped forward but I held up one hand to stop him and kept the other on the face of the unconscious Garcia.

I had taken a lot from him, but it was all a snarled mess. That terrifying face, I couldn't grab ahold of it, couldn't find it again…if I could just…I kept a steady flow of depraved memories from the bastard. Remy, Remy, where was Remy…? The sound of voices grew louder in the hallway.

Jean-Luc hauled me up by my arm. "We out of time."

Now that he was close, I saw that his jacket was rumpled, his hair mussed, and there was a faint bruise under one of his eyes. I felt a twinge of guilt for wanting those goons to rough him up a bit. He was right though, we had to go, and I would have to sort through Garcia's memories while we ran for it, certainly not the first time I had to work on the fly in my line of work. I only hoped he didn't fade before I pieced together everything we needed, but from what had been front and center it seemed the shipyards were the place to start, Remy's face had been juxtaposed alongside images of Valencia's port to the Mediterranean Sea and Garcia had a fleet of cargo ships, one christened the _Veritas_ , on a regular rotation.

Oh, hell...something I had taken from him snapped into place in my brain. "We're out of time in more ways than one, sugar. They've got Remy, but they're moving him. Tonight."

His jaw tensed. "Where?" The racket in the hall grew louder. "Hold that thought. One problem at a time, eh?" We leaned Garcia's body against the balcony's railing and peered over the edge. "I came up over the roof, but if we shimmy down this drain pipe, there's enough shadows to make our getaway."

I kicked off my heels and shoved them against his chest. Shimmying down a drain pipe in that damned dress? Was everyone gonna see my ass tonight? He stuffed my shoes into his pocket for safekeeping and swung a long leg over the railing.

"I'll go first."

I grabbed his shoulder roughly. Oh, _hell_ no! There was no way he was getting a front row seat to my bits and pieces! "Let me," I grumbled and hopped up on the railing. Jean-Luc was right about one thing, we needed to move. Garcia always got his way, but his assistant and guards wouldn't leave us unattended forever. I reached out for the drain pipe and slipped a little on the smooth railing, but Jean-Luc caught me around the waist.

"Careful." He was right behind me and drew me against him. My throat hitched, and I told myself the breathlessness came from almost taking a tumble from three stories up, not from Jean-Luc holding me in his arms.

"I'm good." He let me go and I started the climb down. Times like these, I missed the powers I had taken in a less than shining moment from the superhero Ms. Marvel. Flying through the air, the wind whipping through my hair, shrugging off bullets like they were June bugs? Fearless.

We made it to the ground without any further slipups and I retrieved my shoes. We were on the backside of the building, near where we had originally entered and Jean-Luc pulled me into the shadows along the wall.

"What's our next move?" I whispered. We still had to weave our way undetected through the mass of people before the army of security guards got wind of what I had done to their boss.

He turned his head towards me, bending his lanky frame down to my level. "You tell me."

I sighed and leaned my forehead against his, tried to choke down the worry that threatened to drown me, to push down the butterflies Jean-Luc was stirrin' up being so near. Hell of a time to develop a crush on your exes' father, especially when that ex was in mortal danger.

"That asshole definitely has Remy, but…" My head hurt trying to make sense of everything I had swallowed up. "He's not keeping him…he's giving him to somebody else….somebody dangerous…there's so much _hate_ …I can't…"

The door of the catering entrance flew open and spilled light towards us.

"Who's out there?" a voice called in Spanish.

I didn't even think about what I did next, but pulled Jean-Luc's body around by his jacket lapels. Wrapping my arms and one high-heeled leg around him, I kissed him hard on the mouth. _'Make it look good,'_ his voice from earlier echoed in my ear, and we sure did.

A second voice joined the first. "Pablo, what's going on out here? Trouble?"

Trouble was about right. I wanted us to look like two lovebirds sneaking around, not like two suspicious thieves in the night, but Jean-Luc played his part a little too well and moved his mouth to my neck. It was supposed to be an act, but I was getting swept away, and whimpered out loud from the skin to skin contact. After so long without, I still had trouble keeping my head on straight when people touched me. His hand caressed my thigh and hitched it higher.

 _Remy,_ I yelled at myself, the man you love, this man's _son_ , is in trouble, could be hurt!

"Pablo, you pervert, get back to work! Let _somebody_ have a little fun tonight!"

The door slammed and the light disappeared. We froze against one another, panting.

"Anna…" His voice was a husky whisper and we were still tangled together. His lips went back to tracing my throat.

The man was smooth as French silk and just as sweet, but I had to bring us back to reality before we did something we both would regret. "Shipyard," I trembled against him. "Remy's being held at the docks…"

His son's name acted like a cold shower for both of us and we broke free of our scandalous embrace.


	4. Chapter 4

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: So feel free to begin hating me as of this chapter, just please give me until about Chapter six-ish to redeem myself.

Thanks everybody for the interest so far!

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

"Merde," Jean-Luc breathed out in a murmur. "You sure about this?" He turned his head towards me in the shadows.

I leaned back against cold, corrugated steel and met his eyes with a fierce glare. "I'm sure. They're smuggling Remy out of Spain on one of Garcia's cargo ships, the _Veritas_ , tonight." I leaned around Jean-Luc to peep past the corner of the semi-trailer sized shipping container we were hiding behind. "If we don't find him…"

My heart sank. The Port of Valencia was massive, one of the largest along the Mediterranean Sea, and Garcia's real estate was mind-blowing. A Naval base's worth of barges and cargo ships lined up along the docks, their bellies open and ready for goods. A swarm of men and trucks were hard at work under the night sky, a crane lifting the crates high into the air and depositing them into each ship in turn. A mountain range of the steep shipping containers, piled two or three stories high, twisted into a maze along the edge of the water. Finding Remy wasn't going to be quite like the proverbial needle in the haystack, but it would be close.

"This is impossible," he muttered over my head.

"Impossible should be right up your alley, sugar."

He laughed softly. "Even I have my limits, petite."

I peeled myself away from the spectacle and stood up to meet his eyes. "We can't let them just take him! We got us the name of the ship they're smuggling him out on. We split up, start searching the containers closest to it. It may seem impossible, but we gotta try!"

He nodded, his expression grim. He pulled me against his chest and my anxious heart thudded loudly. "If we have to split up, you better borrow some of my special talents. You may need a little help breaking into those containers."

I could have taken his hand, or touched his cheek, but without a thought we moved together and closed the breath of distance between us, our lips coming together in a panicked heat. I stayed away from his thoughts, too scared of what I would find, but took a piece of his agility, his speed, and most importantly, his thieving skills.

"Magnifique," he whispered when we parted. We were still playing our dangerous game, still dancing our tango. What was wrong with me? Was it the stress, the adrenaline turning us on?

There had been no time to call for backup or reinforcements during our getaway from the museum. I had sifted my way through the leftovers of Garcia's thoughts and managed to uncover our where and when, just not the who. Garcia and his goons had Remy socked away in a shipping container and were smuggling him out of the city via the Mediterranean, but I still couldn't get my brain wrapped around who was doin' this, around who was responsible. It didn't seem like Hydra's handiwork and Garcia was just a local thug despite his world-wide ambitions.

We had to find Remy and we had to find him fast, but I had no idea how we were gonna do that. There were hundreds of shipping containers piled higgledy piggledy and we were gonna have to open each one in our search. Thankfully we had liberated a couple flashlights from the car Jean-Luc had "borrowed" to get us here, but I wished Logan could have been here, his nose would have made the hunt a snap.

"Pop your tracker when you find him, or if you find trouble." He handed me a lock pick.

I nodded and kicked off my ridiculous shoes again, setting off for my first row. I was starting in the outer perimeter while Jean-Luc made his way to the belly of the ship and searched any containers already loaded. I kept to the shadows created by the jagged outlines stacked together like Legos. For a very dangerous while, I painstakingly searched each trailer, dodging broken glass, rats, and the ship's crew, when inspiration hit. Why was I dodging the crew? If I could get one of them alone in the dark, I could find out everything I needed. Instead of running from them, I changed tactics and stalked them.

The sound of voices drove me flat against a chilly, darkened wall. Their words were foreign to me again, but the men, two of them, were gruff, hardened. They were arguing, that much was apparent in any language, and I held my breath when they stopped just beyond my reach. One of the men began gesturing wildly and ran a hand through his thick hair while he raged. The other merely shrugged and lit a cigarette, walking casually away from his companion. The angry man muttered to himself and stepped towards my shadow, reaching my way to check the crate's locks. I stretched out and grasped his bare forearm with my hand and pulled with my powers before he could even make a sound. His brown eyes went wide, but I caught his heavy body before he crashed unconscious to the ground, and drug him the rest of the way into the darkness.

My Spanish was back, but more importantly, I saw what had made this man so angry. He wasn't such a bad guy, Tomas, my new unconscious friend. He was just your average working Joe that had gotten pulled into a rich man's troubles, and he was worried about the unscheduled cargo he had just found, a strange man with red eyes…I had to stop myself from sprinting for the shipping container I saw in his memories, its steel a faded blue, the number _1439_ etched in peeling black paint, one row off the docks and in line to be loaded. I found it within a couple breathless minutes, piled on top of another container as a second story. I took a deep breath to calm myself when the coast was clear and hauled me and my too short dress up onto the second level to wrench open the creaky doors. There was barely a ledge for me to stand on, and Jean-Luc and his mad skills were fading fast. Keeping an eye out, I wrapped one shaking arm around a handle and worked the lock with the other, my toes digging desperately into the metal railing beneath me. The tumblers finally clicked into place and I inched open the groaning door, falling inside the inky blackness with a thud.

"Who's there?"

Remy! My heart swelled into my throat at the sound of his voice. I started shaking, but managed to get the door closed behind me before I switched my flashlight on.

"We gotta stop meeting like this, sugar." The beam of light found him on the floor against the back wall with his hands and feet tied behind him.

His battered face broke into a pained grin. "Mon Dieu, please don't let me be dreamin'."

My hand brushed his cheek and I knelt to look him over. He had been beaten, badly, his face a bruised and bloody mess. His t-shirt was ripped in several places, revealing deep gashes on the skin beneath. His wrists were bound by handcuffs so tight the flesh was cut nearly to the bone, and I gasped in horror as I realized the bastards had savagely broken most of his fingers.

I smiled back at him through a blur of tears. "You're not dreamin, Swamp Rat. Your daddy thought you might need a hand." I kissed him gently and my fingertips rested on the reason he hadn't escaped from this little prison. A Genoshan inhibitor collar circled his neck.

"You sure, chere? Seems like a dream I had once…"

Jokes, even through what had to be an incredible amount of pain, but that was Remy LeBeau and I loved him for it.

I shined the flashlight onto the collar and scrutinized it with what was left of Jean-Luc's brain. "One of _your_ dreams? Was the wig involved, or just the handcuffs?"

He laughed softly and nuzzled against my neck. "I think you been hangin' around Jean-Luc too long, Anna."

I wanted to hold him, to pretend there was nothing wrong between us, but we needed to move. I popped the ring on my homing beacon to signal Jean-Luc and leaned over Remy's wrists for a closer look at the handcuffs. Pretty standard issue, but even a master thief would have had trouble with crippled fingers and tied up feet. I pulled out my lock pick and stopped.

"Shit," I cussed. I was losing Jean-Luc. The lock pick, just a few minutes ago as comfortable to me as my own hand, looked foreign and clumsy, unusable.

"Let me see."

I held my palm under the glow of the flashlight.

"Too big for the tumblers in the handcuffs. You got any bobby pins under that wig?" I whipped off my brunette bob and the cap beneath it, dislodging small hair pins and freeing my frizzy tresses. "Those'll work better." He smiled and winced at the same time. "You need a little help?"

Our lips met over the faint heat of the flashlight. My pull got me the comforting warmth of him, of the love he still felt for me despite everything we had been through, but I got a whole lot of everything else. Fear, anger, pain, enough I had to stifle a scream and ball my hands into fists to assure myself that they weren't broken to pieces. He had spent untold hours alone in the dark after they had tortured and beaten him senseless, but even Remy didn't know who had ultimately been responsible for his kidnapping.

"You get any of my powers?" he asked when I backed away.

The pin in my hand stayed just a pin when I tried to charge it and I shook my head. "Guess the power has to be there for me to borrow it."

The lock on the cuffs was easy thanks to Remy's help, but the locks on the collar were another story. The Remy inside my head was gleeful for the challenge, but the power inhibitor was a beast. Two locks, one on each side, that had to be turned simultaneously, each lock a nightmare in of itself, difficult bitting, tight tolerances, spring return, and they looked to be wired, maybe even booby-trapped.

"This collar may have to wait, sugar. We gotta get out of here. Do you think you can walk?"

His body was a screaming ball of pain. Those assholes hadn't managed to break his ankles, but they had given it their best shot. I helped him to stand and he staggered and leaned heavily against me. I didn't know how the hell I was going to get him down from the upper level and get him out of here without attracting attention. The ruby on my wrist was getting hotter and hotter, Jean-Luc was comin', just not fast enough.

We hadn't hobbled more than two steps towards the doors when something heavy thunked onto the roof and our container shuddered violently. I held Remy tight around the waist and the whole room pitched and rocketed into the air. Our container was being loaded! We toppled to our knees and my flashlight skittered off with a scrape of metal. Remy grunted in pain when we hit the floor. Jean-Luc was gonna be too late. I dove for the flashlight and crashed back into him, unable to keep my balance as our crate dangled high above the docks.

"Remy, are you…?" My hands lit on him the split second the staccato rip of gunfire echoed off the outside walls. We both threw ourselves flat and tried to shield each other, the ruby blazin' red hot on my wrist. Fuck! Our container lurched to a stop and swung back and forth like the car stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel. The deafening roar of an explosion tossed the crate into space like it was nothing, and we ping-ponged against the roof and sides as we plunged, landing in the sea with the hard slap of a swimming pool cannonball.

I was bleeding and bruised, but Remy was barely conscious. "Remy, sugar, can you hear me?" Our flashlight flickered and died somewhere across the floor. The container bobbed on the water for only a moment before I heard the rush of water split and crack the seams. I dove for the door, but the force of the sea against the outside held it fast.

"Anna…" Remy moaned from a heap on the floor. I sloshed through water already ankle deep and rising to prop him up. "No, choice, cherie, we gotta get this collar off."

Those Genoshans had a pretty sick sense of humor. The power inhibitors were designed never to be removed, part of the defunct and destroyed country's solution to the mutant problem.

"Remy, I can't…"

He pressed his forehead against mine. "Yes, you can, chere. _We_ can."

I drew a little more from him, enough to feel how wrecked he was. If we didn't get him out of here soon, he was going to go into shock. In the pitch black I ignored the shouts and gunfire outside, ignored the water tickling and climbing my body, ignored everything but his voice in my head, kept our skin touching and my power flowing, and let his mind slide into mine and guide my fingers. The smell of the sea filled in around us too quickly. I was scared of what failure could bring, of how much he was hurting himself and his twisted, broken fingers, but sensed him feeling his way around the complicated mechanisms, my powers linking me to him better than a psychic rapport.

"Ready?" he whispered in my ear. The seawater was shoulder high and we were shaking and sinking. We turned the last tumblers together and the collar splashed harmlessly into the water surrounding us. Remy slumped against the wall but I caught him before he went under, and laid a hand on his cheek, this time coming back with a great big helping of his mutant power. With one arm, I got him around the waist and started treading water, with the other I fished the inhibitor collar out and charged it with kinetic energy. In the magenta glow I caught sight of Remy's weary face.

"Careful, chere. Think 'fore you let that thing fly…" He was circling the drain, but he was right. Any hole I blew was gonna let in a big gush of water that could screw us. Just like the experts told you if you crashed your car into a lake, we were gonna have to wait and let the damn thing fill more before we rolled down a window and swam out. The liquid was cold and I was losing feeling in my bare feet, Remy was a block of ice in my arms.

"Stay with me, sugar. Come on…" He was heavy and I almost lost my grip. "Remy!" I bit his earlobe and he jerked in my arms.

"Ow…"

Our airspace was closin' fast. We were at the top of the crate, kissing the steel of the roof. Just about there, but Remy was numb.

"Sugar," I cried over the gurgling rush of water and the sounds of shots and shouts outside, "You gotta kick! I can't hold you!"

Somehow, through the pain, he managed a few driving strokes. Just as we lost our breathing room, I whispered in his ear fiercely. "Deep breath!"

Charging the collar, I winged it through the water. The glowing ring swirled in a blur of bubbles and exploded against the far wall in a fiery blast, shredding one end of the crate. The heat from the blast frothed over us like a cappuccino's milk, but I grabbed a limp Remy under his armpit and swam us through the gaping hole.

I was runnin' out of air fast and I knew Remy hadn't been conscious enough to catch a decent lungful, but from the sounds of the ruckus above I needed to get us further away before we surfaced. What the hell trouble had Jean-Luc run into? Unfortunately, we couldn't wait any longer to come up or we would drown. I was exhausted, but I shot us towards the light, sucking in a breath when I broke the surface of the water. Remy was dead weight in my arms, and I slapped him lightly with my free hand while I kept us floating.

"Remy! Remy!" His head lolled against mine but I felt the stirring of air on my cheek. Thank fucking god…

Shouts in Spanish reached my ears and I struggled to swim us away from the burning hulk that appeared to be all that was left of the _Veritas_. I hadn't had a chance to register what had happened while we were trapped, but the heat and smoke of a massive fire rose into the night sky. The colossal cargo ship was a flaming wreck, and though I didn't know how the hell it had happened, I silently prayed that Jean-Luc had made it to safety. The air around us was blisteringly hot, too hot for me to distinguish the heat of the homing device still somehow strapped to my wrist.

More shouting, this time closer, and the explosive strafing of machinegun fire sliced towards us. I dodged us the best I could, but lost my hold on Remy. He sank into the murky water and I dove after him. My frantic grasping fingers missed his arm when another volley of shots pierced the strangely glowing depths, hitting Remy squarely in the chest. His floating body twitched an electric shock dance with each bullet and I screamed a scream no one would hear and lunged for him desperately. Another explosion above rocked the underwater world, and hunks of debris cannonballed into my arms, legs, finally my head.

The last horrible thing I saw as the darkness claimed me was Remy, his beautiful eyes wide and unseeing, slipping soundlessly into the deep.


	5. Chapter 5

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: I've been fretting about this chapter since I started writing this story, so I think I just need to rip the band aid off and post it. Your hatred may or may not continue, just know that, as a Romy fan, this sequence in particular was a challenge for me to write, so I expect it to be a challenge to read. Just a reminder in case you forgot, this story is for Mature Audiences only.

I promise it all works out in the end for our favorite couple, but sometimes you have to go to some dark places before you see the light, right? If you need to close your eyes for the last paragraph and join us next chapter, I completely understand.

Okay, I need to just let this thing speak for itself...thanks for reading...

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Powerful hands rhythmically pumped my rib cage, grinding the bare skin of my back into the cold and gritty cement beneath me. I turned over and vomited a stomach full of muddy water, coughing and collapsing breathlessly onto my side. Shivering violently, I tried to will each and every breath in and out of an aching chest.

"Rogue! Anna!" Jean-Luc's hands were frantic now as he checked my body for injuries. Looming over me, his face was a haggard, worrisome mess. "Can you hear me, petite?"

What I heard was the distant wail of sirens and the gentle lap of the nearby water. I looked to be lying in a dimly lit corner of the docks, but flames still licked at the edges of the sky…

The horrible flash of remembrance plunged into my heart like a knife, and I shoved Jean-Luc away with my hands balled into fists. "Why the hell are you helpin' _me_!?" He caught my flailing hands by the wrists and held them against his chest. "Your son needs…!" His face shattered and he bowed his head. Over his shoulder, I caught sight of a body lying motionless in a pool of light. " _no_ …" I tried to scream, to howl, but my voice came out in a paralyzed whimper. "No!" I thrashed against Jean-Luc's iron grip. He still wouldn't look at me or at the body, but I ripped my hands free and scrambled towards the familiar form lying prone in the lamplight. Knees shaking, I staggered forward, but my legs wouldn't hold me and I dropped soundlessly next to a lifeless Remy.

My heart stopped. His face was so beautiful, so peaceful, an angel fallen from heaven. He could have been sleeping, lost in a dream of better days, but his t-shirt was stained a horrible, slowly darkening crimson. I held a trembling hand towards him. The skin that met my touch was cold and waxy, alien. Something ripped open deep down inside me and I buckled, falling, gasping for air. Oh, god…this wasn't happening…this couldn't be happening…he couldn't be…this wasn't how this ended between us…!

Shouts and the hammer of gunshots ricocheted off the stone walls near us, sending sparks flying through the air. Jean-Luc's rough hands gripped my shoulders. "We gotta go!" he growled and tried to jerk me up. "Nothing we can do for him now!"

Angrily, I elbowed him in the ribs. "We can't just leave him!" A blinding wrath bowled over the grief I was trying to run away from. How fucking dare he suggest we leave him! His own son! I covered Remy protectively with my body, but an enraged Jean-Luc wrapped one arm around my waist, and with the other pinned down both of mine.

"He gone, petite, but they still coming! They can't find us here!" he bellowed, but I fought him with everything I had, kicking, sobbing, scratching, screaming until my throat was raw, while a hail of bullets smattered the ground around us. I had been trained by the best, but so had he, and he was stronger than me. With a tremendous effort, he managed to drag me into a darkened alley and out of harm's way, but my haunted eyes stayed locked on Remy's body as we moved further and further away. We hid around a corner, and I slammed Jean-Luc back against the brick wall of a building, trying to get free, trying to get back to Remy, but he wrapped his arms and legs around me and covered my mouth.

"Hush!" he hissed in my ear and pulled us into the shadows to watch as an army of police, firetrucks, and ambulances blazed the nearby side-street towards the scene. "Look! _They'll_ take care of Remy, petite, but I gotta get you out of here…"

Overwhelmed and exhausted, on the verge of hyperventilating, I went limp in his arms, numb, every ounce of fight draining out of me. He hot-wired some lucky person's car, but I was only vaguely conscious of what he was doin' when he lifted me and strapped me into the passengers' seat.

The gunshots underwater, Remy's body dancing from the force of the bullets, his darkly handsome face gone cold, my mind replayed it all on a torturous loop. I couldn't breathe, I was suffocating…I couldn't let myself feel this, it was too much…he couldn't be gone, he just couldn't…I clenched my teeth to stop myself from screaming.

Jean-Luc's hand touched my cheek. "Anna, can you walk?" he asked gently.

I blinked the world into focus. We were parked outside my beach house, but I had no memory of the drive. I didn't answer him, but he eased the stolen car into the garage. He came around to help me stand, but I pushed his hands away and forced shaky legs to walk into my dark and empty house.

The attached garage led into the kitchen, a room that had Remy's stamp all over it, and a fresh wave of grief took my knees out from under me. Jean-Luc caught me in his arms and deposited me on one of the island's barstools. With heavy, slumped shoulders, he rummaged through the kitchen's cupboards while I stared blankly at the glowing flecks of the granite counter. A drink glass appeared in front of me and I jumped. Jean-Luc stood beside me and filled the glass with whiskey, then poured himself one of the same. He slammed it and poured himself another, then gestured to mine.

"Drink," he commanded.

I shook my head dully, but he tipped back his second and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Drink!"

"Why?" I croaked.

"Cause I know you need it, and I won't mourn alone tonight."

The booze burned all the way down, but I gestured for another. The pain of it was better than the grief I was fighting inside myself that threatened to boil over and scorch me. This was too big, too much…

Jean-Luc swirled his glass in his hand and breathed out in an unsteady sigh. "They'll…they'll take him to one of the hospitals," he whispered hoarsely. "We could have followed, but neither of us is in any shape for another fight. We'll have to find him after some rest, go and identify his body."

His _body_. Remy's _body_. Oh, God! I ran for the sink and barely made it there before I threw up the liquor. Jean-Luc hovered over me and held my hair out of my face while I wretched to the bottom of my stomach. Shaking, I rinsed the foul taste from my mouth.

"Take a deep breath, petite." Jean-Luc's hands lightly caressed the bare skin of my back, but at his touch, an instant flash of hatred rose inside me.

I struggled to free myself from the circle of his strong arms. "Let me go!" When he didn't, my sharp elbow connected with the hard plane of his stomach again. He stepped back from me with a surprised grunt and I twisted around, unable to control the wrath pouring from me by the bucketful.

"You _left_ him!" The sudden venom in my voice sparked an answer behind Jean-Luc's eyes. "How could you do that!?"

" _We_ left him." His solid hands dug into my shoulders and drew me away from the sink.

"Because you forced me to! I didn't want to!" I fought against him, but he held me fast, and let out a harsh laugh.

"You keep tellin' yourself that, petite."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I shrieked and shrugged off his hands.

"Seems t'me it don' take too much to send you runnin'."

Rage snarled through me. I stomped on his toes and from the room, but he followed hot on my heels, his every scathing word a knife slice across wounded skin.

"Go on and prove my point, Anna!" he taunted. "My son could never count on you for anythin', all you ever did was leave!"

At the bottom of the stairs I whirled and jabbed a finger angrily in his face. "And what about you? All you ever did was use him! He was just a weapon, a tool when it was convenient, and when it wasn't, you threw him away like yesterday's trash! Did you _ever_ love him? You twisted him, made him a criminal! This is your fault, you and all your guild bullshit!"

His furious eyes burned into mine and I backed up the staircase away from him. "Don't you put this on me," he roared. "He tried to walk away from you and your self-righteous ilk years ago, but stayed just to please you! His whole life revolved about trying to keep _you_ happy, but it was never good enough, was it? All you did was take, take, take, his heart, his soul! Your powers were nothing but an excuse to keep him just out of reach, to keep dangling him on the line, waving that ass in his face, your love was nothing but torture to him! You are the most selfish woman I've ever met! You never deserved him…you couldn't love him like he needed, and you never loved him enough to let him live his own life! Remy LeBeau, Prince of Thieves, he was your fucking lap dog! You strung him along with promises you could never keep, never letting him forget the sins of his past…his death is on your hands!"

I struck him hard enough to leave an angry red welt on his cheek and his eyes flared, but I slapped him again, harder. I wanted him to hurt, I wanted to tear him apart until he was a match for the shattered pieces that were left of me.

When I swung back for another hit, he caught my wrist and held it between us. Struggling to wrench my hand free, I fell backwards onto the wooden staircase with a painful thud, dragging him down on top of me. His weight was heavy and I felt his heart beating rapidly from where our chests were heaving feverishly against each other. My anger had become a blinding fury, but I was all too aware of his fingers digging into the swell of my hip, of his thigh pressed between my knees, and my cheeks burned with a wild heat that spread its way across my skin.

Suddenly, his mouth was on mine, demanding, desperate, his passionate kiss a challenge, an unspoken need that I met with parted lips. The pain, the anguish that was pulling me under, was burning to ashes in the rapid fire igniting between us. A hand slid along my ribs and found its way into the low neckline of my dress while he bit his way down the column of my throat, and I closed my eyes and imagined someone else's lips, someone else's touch. We writhed against each other, clawing, tearing, fighting for control, all the while my mind screaming at me to stop, but my body wanted him, _needed_ him to take away the empty, aching grief inside that I couldn't allow myself to feel, anything to make it stop…

He froze and pulled back from me. Wide-eyed, shaking his head numbly, he ran a rugged hand across his jaw, and his face was guilty, as guilty as in that hotel room, like a thief caught taking something that didn't belong to him. He was giving us a moment to breath, to think, and made to stand up, but my reaction was purely physical. Awakened, every nerve alive, desperate for anything to stop the pain, I leaned towards him and snaked an arm around his neck, dragging him back to me. Lips and bodies melting together, our hasty rhythm began again, and his insistent grinding pushed the sharply painful edge of the stairs into my shoulders and hips. I felt the thick heft of his erection growing against my thigh and moved my hand to rub him through the fabric of his pants. Groping, pawing, biting, I urged him on in a frenzy of caresses, and between the two of us, we worked my shredded dress up and my panties down, his slacks undone a second later. Nothing would ever be the same between us, I knew it, but I grasped him and held him against my slippery entrance. He groaned and pushed roughly into me, making me cry out, but I wrapped my legs around him and drove him deeper still. Moaning, driven by a frantic, animal hunger, unable to fight whatever this was any longer, we thrust blindly against each other, faster and faster. Anger hardened his strokes and he was hurting me, but I hurt him back, raking my fingernails into the tensed muscles of his back and chest. His forehead was against mine, the stubble that scratched my skin bittersweet and familiar, and there were tears on my cheeks, but I couldn't tell if they were mine or his or ours. Eyes unfocused, he buried himself as deeply as he could inside me, punishing me, pleading with me, the pleasure and pain twisting me tighter and tighter until I snapped inside, sending me flying over the edge. I stifled a scream against his shoulder and shuddered around him, my climax finally drawing out his own.


	6. Chapter 6

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Bonus chapter this week because I just couldn't leave everybody hanging like that. Thanks for sticking with me on this one, I appreciate all the feedback!

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

Sleep was a long time coming.

After what we had done, I had picked myself up from the staircase in a disgraceful, silent fog, unable to meet Jean-Luc's eyes, the cold reality of Remy's death just where I had left it.

In a scalding, steamy shower, I had scrubbed myself pink, shivering uncontrollably despite the terrific heat. Not bothering to find pajamas, I had wrapped the sheet around my naked body like a bandage on an open wound and collapsed on the bed, alone, sobbing brokenly for the life and love I couldn't believe was gone, until exhaustion had finally pulled me into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Now my eyelids were heavy, gritty, and I opened them to find Jean-Luc perched motionless on the windowsill nearest my bed. He hadn't heard me stir, and I took advantage of the stolen moment. The sky outside the curtain-less window was just showing the faint touches of sunrise, and his striking face was turned in profile, watching the coming dawn. Freshly showered, his thick, still damp hair was brushed back from his face. The wounds of yesterday were pretty evident, at least the ones that could be seen, purple bruises lined his square jaw and the angry scratches I had delivered to his body stood in high contrast to his tan skin.

A sick, shameful grief splashed over me and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Instead, I threw my arms over my head and curled into a ball. Jesus. Remy was dead. _Dead._ The cruel finality of it punched me straight through the chest and I started shaking, gasping for air. I tried to push it all down deep inside me, but controlling the agony was like holding a lid on a boiling pot. I couldn't do this. How could he just be…gone? I could call his cellphone right now and hear that voice, a smooth silk that made me weak in the knees even after all these years. He still felt so real, so much a part of me, for so long my life had revolved around his every move, it felt like someone had torn a gaping hole inside of me that would never heal. So full of life, so full of love, the sun had disappeared from my sky. Why couldn't I have died with him? It would have been easier than trying to go on without him...what was I gonna do?

Jean-Luc's weight leaned on the edge of the bed and I felt his fingers hesitantly trace my bare shoulder. I lifted my head and met his anxious gaze. It looked like he hadn't slept at all, there were bags under his eyes that rivaled his collection of bruises, and the whites of them had that overly bright quality of someone who had spent the night in tears. For the first time since I had known him, he looked older, tired, broken. His shirt wasn't buttoned all the way to the top and the stubble on his face was thick enough that he looked like himself again. Tentatively, he lifted his hand and smoothed a tangle of curls from my forehead.

"Did you get much sleep?" he asked, his voice rough as gravel.

Swallowing thickly, I curled my fingers around his to quiet them in my hair. "No. You?"

He ducked his head and the smallest twitch of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth. "Non, but that's what coffee's for, neh?"

With his chin, he gestured to the nightstand where two steaming mugs sat next to a folded newspaper. He sighed heavily and rubbed his thumb along the knuckles of my hand twined in his.

"Anna, I owe you an apology for…last night. My behavior was… _reprehensible_."

I froze and turned my eyes to stare blankly out the window. I could barely bring myself to think of what we had done to each other last night, but it certainly hadn't all been his idea. I had practically begged him to…

He squeezed my fingers so hard the joints ground together. "I'll understand if you want me to leave," he said unevenly. "You deserve better."

Turning my gaze back to him, I couldn't stop the bitter tears that slid down my cheeks. "Do I?" I whispered savagely. Remy's body hadn't even been cold before I was welcoming his father inside mine. That made me a special kind of monster. My momma would have been proud.

"Don't talk like that!" He gripped my shoulders fiercely and yanked me up to a sitting position. "We were out of our minds last night!"

Maybe we had been, but what about now? I was again very aware of his touch, aware that just the thin fabric of the bedsheet separated him from my naked skin, and judging by how heavy his breathing had gotten, he was, too. Warmth spread from where his fingers dug into my arms, travelling along every nerve, sparking the heat between us again. Was it so bad, to seek comfort, an escape from the pain, in the arms of someone who had loved him just as much?

He crushed me to his chest, our hearts pounding against each other, and when he spoke, his lips inched towards mine. "Maybe I have gone mad…" he murmured.

It would have been so easy to give in, to let him take away the hollow ache that was still deep inside me. My fingers sank through the exposed hair on his chest to the next button on his shirt. He inhaled in a shudder and danced around my lips.

The cellphone in his front pocket flashed and rang, breaking the spell. I backed up and drew the sheet tight around me, but swept my eyes away, embarrassed by how easily he had almost had me again.

He swore and fumbled for the phone. "I have to take this," he muttered and rose from the bed. "It's about Remy." He stepped from the room before he answered. His ringtone? _Strangers in the Night_ , I shit you not.

Sobbing and laughing in one breath, I muffled the sound behind one hand and brought my knees to my chest. Jesus H. Christ. The phone call was about Remy. We had left his body for the authorities, left him all alone, had just let them take him! The fury rolled back over me in a sick wave. I knew Jean-Luc had just been trying to protect me, and himself, from the remnants of Garcia's seaside goons when he had lugged me away from Remy last night, but I would never forgive him for leaving his son to the tender mercies of the local first responders, or forgive myself for not fighting him harder.

Despite my anger, I couldn't fault Jean-Luc's logic: a master thief and an Avenger at the scene of an immense explosion that stabbed through the economic heart of Valencia would have done nothing but send him to jail, my presence possibly sparking an international incident, or at the least a diplomatic headache.

As one of the victims, Remy would have been taken to a local hospital. If he had any ID on him, we would have been called as next of kin. If not, he'd be a John Doe at the morgue and searching the hospitals in the area would turn him up.

I scrubbed away angry tears and stared around the room in disbelief. How had it come to this? Remy had tried to keep me out of this mess, either out of some misguided attempt to protect me and my reputation, or because he knew Joelle, and anything to do with her, turned me into a petty, jealous bitch. Whatever the reason, he came here alone and it had gotten him killed. I hadn't been there when he needed me. In the heat of the moment I may have screamed it at Jean-Luc last night, but I knew that this was truly my fault. The love of my life was dead and I was to blame. I had failed Remy in more ways than one.

Salvador Garcia's photograph sneered at me from the front page of the newspaper on the nightstand. I swooped it up and snapped it open. Jean-Luc had thought enough to grab an English newspaper along with the now cold coffees, and I tore my eyes down the article.

' _Billionaire's Fortune up in Smoke'_ the headline screamed. The massive fire caused by last night's explosions had continued to rage and had taken out most of his ships and cargo in port. Cause unknown and damages were still bein' calculated, but it looked to be in the billions. The press were goin' crazy because no one had seen or heard from that bastard since yesterday and his organization had made no official comment. Huh. Had I hurt him more than I meant to? He certainly deserved it, but it had been a while since I had used my powers to inflict pain on someone. Garcia's mouthpiece, Ms. Sylvia Salt, was holding a press conference at the company's headquarters that afternoon.

Dropping the paper into my lap, I scowled at the arrogant prick's picture. His press machine was gonna spin this a thousand ways from Sunday until the truth was nothing but a fiction, but these people had kidnapped Remy as a favor for someone else, and that someone would pay dearly for the man they had taken from me. There was nothing that went on in Garcia's world that Salt didn't know about. I needed another disguise and a thief to sneak me in, but if I could get her alone and get my hands on her, she'd have no secrets left.

Jean-Luc knocked softly and entered, running a hand through his hair. "That was one of my contacts at the Hospital Casa de Salud. John Doe matchin' Remy's description came in last night. He can get us into the morgue without goin' through the official channels."

 _Morgue_. The word brought a swell of nausea up the back of my throat and I had to swallow the taste of vomit and look away. We had to go and identify Remy's body. I started shaking. How the hell could I do this? The thought of even getting up, of putting on clothes and walking out the front door seemed like an enormously impossible undertaking. I just wanted to roll back into the fetal position and let the pain swallow me whole.

My eyes trailed to the newspaper and Garcia's smug face. The sorrow dissipated in a surge of anger that bubbled to the surface of my skin and I grabbed hold of it, used it to focus. Vengeance was a fantastic motivational tool, and there was still the matter of the Zero Compound. Had there really been a renewed threat, were lives still at stake, or had it all been bullshit, a tempting bait to lure Remy into someone's mousetrap? We needed to find out once and for all.

I stood and tucked the sheet around me, Jean-Luc's eyes followin' my every move. I shoved the newspaper against his chest. "I'll get dressed. See what you make of this."

* * *

"It's good to see you, old friend, though I wish it could have been under better circumstances."

The man who ushered us into the morgue through the basement entrance was muscular and trim with not an ounce of extra body fat to spare. He stood a head taller than Jean-Luc, and his mane of salt and pepper hair brushed the collar of his white lab coat. My first absurd thought was that he looked like Sam Elliot in the movie _Roadhouse_ , the moustache, the gravelly voice, wizened eyes that smiled with the weight of the world, under any other circumstances I would have been besotted by this strangely handsome man. Their handshake was heavy. Evidently, the tangled web of the Thieves' Guild had its contacts in every corner of the world, including the dimly lit basement of the Hospital Casa de Salud. I bit my lip against the smell of the enclosed space, tangy, metallic, with something else at the edges that I didn't want to identify.

"Me, too, Alcides." Jean-Luc gestured towards me. "This is my associate, Ms. Beckett."

I shook his hand firmly. My wig had been lost in the chaos of last night, but guild confidant or not, we had decided it was best not to throw around my real or code name just in case anybody was watching. I had found a plain navy ball cap in the back of my closet, and with the white stripe of my hair tucked under it, ponytail trailing through the back, I looked like I had stepped straight out of NCIS. All I needed was the bulletproof vest. I didn't have government ID if we were pressed for it, but we were vague on exactly who I was and what I was doin' with the former head of the Thieves' Guild. Most folks didn't question too hard if you acted like you were in authority, confidence went a long way towards the scam, Remy had taught me that.

"I am sorry you weren't contacted earlier, Jean-Luc." Alcides patted his shoulder grimly, and motioned us deeper into the smell and stainless steel. "I worked the early shift today and the attendants that worked last night were not…acquainted with the needs of your organization. I called as soon as I arrived and saw him."

I blanched and turned away to get myself under control.

"Your son?" Alcides whispered.

Jean-Luc exhaled slowly. "Oui."

"I am so very sorry, my friend. I promise, we have taken excellent care of…"

The tortured scream of a woman echoed through the metallic doors, and without a word we raced for the sound, crashing headfirst into the morgue. Inside, Remy's naked body, draped with a sheet for modesty, lay cut open from sternum to navel on the slab. A young woman in a lab coat and gloves was behind him, backed up against drawers containing more of the dead, wide eyed and screaming bloody murder. Alcides flew around the table and shook her roughly. I gasped and turned away from the horrific sight, dropping to my knees. Jean-Luc caught me around the waist and kept me upright against him. He buried his head on my shoulder and mine against his chest.

"Anna, don't look…Anna, don't look…" he kept repeating in my ear.

I couldn't understand what Alcides was saying to the woman, or the incoherent gibberish she was sobbing back, but I understood the sound of the slap that silenced her.

"Madre de dios," Alcides breathed. "Jean-Luc…you need to look at this."

I choked down a scream. _Look at this?_ What kind of callous asshole said something like that? With shaking hands, Jean-Luc unwrapped his arms from around me. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my hat and turned back to the ghastly scene, sure that the image was forever burned onto my retinas. The woman had sat on a stool and was quietly sobbing, the red imprint of a hand emblazoned on her cheek. Alcides stood over Remy, his grey face as ashen as his hair. Jean-Luc took a cautious step forward, and I seized his hand and followed.

Under the bright, unforgiving lights, lay my love, Remy. My eyes hovered over his beautiful face, his perfect eyelashes, those full lips, the stubble and bruises that were souvenirs from his days in captivity. I couldn't bring myself to look to where this woman had defiled his body to begin an autopsy, but Jean-Luc gasped.

"Mon Dieu," he whispered, "what…what _is_ it?"

Forcing my eyes lower, I prepared myself for blood, veins, and gore, but started in shock. In the cavity of Remy's chest, there were no lungs, no heart, or anything else recognizably human, only a tangle of wires and electric circuit boards. What the hell? Scrubbing trembling hands down my face, I leaned closer. On the inside, past the familiar features of skin and hair, Remy had more in common with a computer than a man. No blood, no bones, nothing but circuits and switchboards stuffed him inside to the gills.

The cold chill of memory slid down my spine like an icy finger. "LMD?" I mumbled. It seemed impossible, but what else could I be lookin' at? I had read all about the Life Model Decoys in SHIELD's files, how androids were made as an exact copy of a living person right down to their nose hair. The damn things had been used pretty successfully as body doubles for everybody from Nick Fury to Thor. How the hell…?

Jean-Luc shook my shoulder and twisted me around. His face was confused, angry, but his eyes held a glimmer of hope that was reflected in mine. "How is this possible?"

Shrugging his hand away, I clenched my jaw. "I reckon I might know. Only one way to find out." I swung my glare towards Alcides. "Cut it apart," I growled.

The man's eyes widened. "You can't be serious!" He and Jean-Luc were giving me identical looks of disgust and the girl had stopped crying, her mouth open in a silent scream. Maybe I deserved it, but that didn't change what it was we were looking at.

"Whatever this is, it ain't human, and it ain't Remy. Keep goin' with your autopsy and see if it's marked with anything we can use, a tag, a stamp, a serial number, somethin' we can trace!"

Alcides nodded curtly. "Understood." He flicked his eyes to Jean-Luc. "It will take time to dismantle, but I will keep its presence quiet."

They kept talking, but the room started to spin around me. "I…I need some air," I slurred. As soon as I was clear of the swinging doors, I sprinted for the exit and barely made it to the alley before I dry-heaved up the food I had never eaten that morning. My head swam. It wasn't Remy…it wasn't Remy…Oh, God, it wasn't Remy! Had someone taken his body, done something to it, or was he…was he somehow still _alive_? I couldn't let myself go there, not yet. When, and why would the switch have been made? LMD's copied the originals down to minute surface details, nearly undetectable, they even breathed, sweated, and bled a little until something more severe happened to damage them. Did this android have bullet wounds or broken fingers? I staggered to my feet and headed for the door, but it flew open, a pale Jean-Luc stumbling out. He pushed past me and collapsed against the brick wall, leaning his hands on his knees and taking deep, careful breaths. I stepped towards him and placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"You know what that… _thing_ …is?" he asked scathingly.

I bit my lip to control my temper. We were more than a little worked up, I couldn't take his tone personally. "My guess is it's an LMD, Life Model Decoy, one of Nick Fury and SHIELD's fancy toys. They're body doubles, automatons, robots, made to replace real important people. I read about them in the Avengers' files, just never thought I'd see one in person." Certainly not one that had taken the form of the man I loved. I shuddered. "I should probably call this in." I dug into my pocket for my cellphone, but Jean-Luc snatched my wrist.

"Do you really want to do that? They'll ask a lot more questions than we willing to answer right now."

He was right, damn him. Besides the Avengers asking about Remy and Jean-Luc's connections to the criminal underworld, if Logan were here, there'd be no way I wouldn't fall apart. Wolverine would see right through me and Jean-Luc and what had happened between us. Oh, God…if Remy was alive…we had…we…I couldn't go there, couldn't let myself even hope that Remy had somehow survived this mess, for my own sanity.

"I'll let Alcides finish first. If there is a serial number or something, then the Avengers can search it for us. If it really is an LMD, they're hard to get and they cost a damn fortune. There's not many civilians that could afford them."

Jean-Luc stood and took a deep breath. "You thinking Garcia is still the path to take?"

Nodding, I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked the time. We had just enough to rustle up a new disguise for me, and make it to meet another of Jean-Luc's groupies at Garcia Towers for Ms. Salt's press conference. "Even if he's not responsible for that…thing…he still knows who's behind it, and I'm bettin' Salt does, too. At the least, she'll know where Garcia's hidin'."


	7. Chapter 7

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

 **Chapter Seven**

Another back door, another handshake from an old acquaintance of the master thief. This time, a man whose name tag read Pablo ushered us silently into Garcia Enterprise's headquarters through the security entrance of all places, and handed us each a forged press pass.

Jean-Luc had gotten his wish. I was blonde this time, but the wig was a little more Hillary Clinton than Pamela Anderson. _I_ had bought the outfit, and the burgundy pantsuit was demure and professional, bland enough to disappear in any crowd. Jean-Luc was wearing a leather jacket and my ball cap, and he scowled in disappointment at my attire while he hoisted a small camera bag onto his shoulder. I stuck my tongue out at him and buttoned another button on my cream silk blouse for good measure.

"I'll get you upstairs to the main lobby where the conference is being held," Pablo hurried us into the security elevator. "After that, you're on your own."

The massive space we walked into was steel and glass, five stories of windows lining one side of the building, staircases and banks of elevators crawling up the others. Despite the foyer being the length of a football field, it was standing room only. We had to shove our way quite rudely to the front of the crowd, but the effort was in vain as the press conference started. We'd never get close enough for me to touch Sylvia Salt, I'd have to grab her on her way out or follow her to a darkened corner, or maybe to the bathroom like she had done to me.

I snagged a little Spanish by politely passing by a neighbor, and Jean-Luc dragged me towards the edge of the crowd. Ms. Salt had ascended the podium, but the hunks of beef she called her bodyguards were clustered near one end of the stage. An opening that led to a hallway was visible behind them.

"She'll leave that way," Jean-Luc breathed into my ear, and it made me tremble. Damn the man, and damn me for letting him affect me like he did.

On the podium, Ms. Salt commanded the attention of the room. "Thank you all for coming." Interesting. She was going to conduct the interview in English. Seemed a little odd to me, but English was the language of business and she was definitely all that. The questions came fast and furious from the crowd, but she handled them like the pro she was. Most of it was standard P.R. evasion tactics, but a half hour in, she called on a reporter next to me, and I pretended to take notes with my head down, just in case there was some way she could recognize my face.

"How do you respond to allegations that there was something dangerous, possibly illegal, in the _Veritas'_ cargo that caused the explosion?"

I froze. Illegal and dangerous just about covered it, but Salt sidestepped the issue entirely.

"Our organization works hand in hand with local law enforcement and the Guardia Civil to ensure we are following international protocol to the letter. Last night's unfortunate incident was isolated and does not reflect the decade of flawless service Garcia Enterprises has provided this great city and the world."

Another reporter raised his hand and shouted his question without waiting for her to call on him. "Shouldn't these assurances be coming directly from Mr. Garcia?"

Sylvia pursed her lips and squared her shoulders. "Mr. Garcia is otherwise engaged, coordinating affairs on site."

The man pressed on. "And what of reports that he himself was injured? My sources tell me Mr. Garcia lapsed into a coma last night at his gala function and was rushed to a private hospital." The pen of every reporter in the room but mine flew across the page of their notebook.

Onstage, Salt paled under the bright lights, but she scoffed. "Really, Marcus, you should check your sources for accuracy before flinging such rubbish." She shut him down and went on to the next, but I wiggled through a sea of bodies and bumped into the reporter, Marcus, from behind, managing to hit him hard enough that he dropped his notepad.

"Oh, excuse me, I'm so clumsy," I cried and bent to pick it up. He glared at me when I handed it back, but my finger grazed his and snatched a sneaky flash of his mind before I let go. Chewing on his memories, I pushed back to Jean-Luc and the edge of the crowd. Salvador Garcia, according to veteran reporter Marcus Crosby's unimpeachable source, had been taken to a private hospital, but had been released sometime in the hours before sunrise, just after a series of explosions had leveled his shipping empire. Where he went after that? Marcus didn't know, but I knew someone who did.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time. Any further information we obtain will be sent via press releases." She nodded over the eruption of raised hands and shouted questions. "On behalf of Mr. Garcia, I thank you again for your time and concern." She made for the exit, but people were jabbing cameras and microphones into her face despite her army of bodyguards. It was a mosh pit of respectable reporters and I couldn't get close enough to touch her.

Jean-Luc hooked me around the waist and whispered in my ear again. "We need a distraction."

Oh, Jesus H. Christ… I turned wide eyes to him and shook my head. "Don't you _dare_ …"

He grinned, turned, and punched a mild-mannered reporter soundly on the nose. The man sprawled onto his back, landing on the floor in front of Salt's security detail. I turned back to Jean-Luc, ready to cuss him out, but he had already disappeared into the crowd. I heard another fist connecting with flesh, saw another man go flying, and that was all it took. The usually civilized crowd of reporters surged into an angry mob that pushed and screamed. Only a LeBeau could start a barroom brawl at a press conference. I had to duck under punches and the slamming of bodies, but Salt's bodyguards had their work cut out for them just holding back the crowd. Only one of the big thugs wrapped his arms around her and ushered her into the hallway. I threw myself under the limbs of her otherwise occupied protectors and sprinted after them.

Salt and her guard were out of sight and around the corner when I heard the ding of an elevator. I sped up, and while I ran, ripped the sleeve of my jacket, kicked off my heels and teased my wig.

"Help me!" I shrieked after them. "Please, anybody! They're animals!" I popped a couple of buttons on my shirt and stopped short, coming around the corner limping awkwardly for show and cradling my arm against me. Sylvia and her bodyguard had frozen before the elevator's open doors and I hobbled towards them. "Please, call an ambulance!" I staggered, and the bodyguard, being a nice and gallant man but a very stupid guard, stepped forward to help me to my feet. I laid my face against his broad chest and faked some hysterics worthy of a Daytime Emmy.

"Idiot! What are you doing?" Sylvia screamed in Spanish.

The young man sputtered in the same tongue and half carried me towards her. "But, she's hurt!"

When he got me close enough to the entrance, I pretended to stumble and pitched forward. He leaned over to catch me, forcing Sylvia hastily into the elevator. I caught ahold of his wrist with my bare skin and pulled with my powers, hard enough to knock him out. His mind crashed into mine, and his beefy body crashed into the car. Sylvia screamed. I untangled myself from the bodyguard, George was his name, and jammed buttons to close the doors and send us to another floor.

"I don't know who the hell you are…" Sylvia had thrown herself to the ground and was wrestling a handgun from George's shoulder holster.

I lunged and grabbed her by the throat. "Yes, you do," I sneered and sucked it all out of her. Her eyes went wide with shock, she went rigid, then limp, and fell to the floor, but I kept my hand on her throat, barely stopping myself from choking the life out of her while I shuffled through her memories. We shuddered to a stop and I moved away from her, collapsing breathlessly against the elevator wall. Like every time I took someone's mind, it was a confused jumble, but I breathed deep and put order to the chaos, peeled back one layer at a time.

What I saw hit me like a fist to the stomach. _Remy was alive!_ I silenced a sob behind my hand. Oh, God, Remy was alive! Garcia's orders had been to keep him that way at all costs, and that mechanical monstrosity Alcides had cut apart on the table had been their last resort. Garcia had seen right through our disguises at his little party and knew we were coming for Remy, and needed a way to throw us off track permanently, figured we'd never stop searching if we thought he was alive. Oh, God…

I held her memories with an iron grip in my mind and made for the doors when they slid open. I couldn't be found with them and scrambled out, but not before I grabbed George's gun. I made it to the emergency exit and down four flights before my knees buckled. _Remy was alive!_ I sifted furiously through her memories. Garcia, injured thanks to me, had been taken to the hospital. He had regained consciousness shortly after the chaos had started at the docks and had been moved to his estate for his own protection. There, a frightening, shadowy figure waited to take possession of Remy. Salt didn't know who the man was, but Garcia did, and so did I.

 _Tombstone_!

Lurching to my feet, I practically flew down the stairs. We were idiots. This had all been for show, a trap laid for Remy by a master criminal hell bent on revenge. Tombstone had wanted the Zero Compound and Gambit had been the hero that had stood in his way.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't see through the tears that streamed down my face. That son of a bitch had gone to a lot of trouble to get his hands on Remy, he probably wouldn't kill him right away, but who knew what he'd do to him. We had to find him!

The door to the next floor flew open and I crashed into a pair of strong arms. "Merde, there you are!" Jean-Luc. He held me tight and I hyperventilated on his shoulder. He held me out and shook me. "What is it, Anna? Anna!"

I let myself fall apart in his arms. "He's alive!" I choked out. "Remy's alive!"


	8. Chapter 8

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

We were out of time. Lonnie Lincoln Thompson, the murderous mountain of terror known to the criminal underworld as Tombstone, had his hands on Remy. If we were lucky, Tombstone was still takin' advantage of Salvador Garcia's hospitality at the billionaire industrialist's palatial estate, if not, if he had moved on and taken Remy with him, we'd never find them.

In another stolen car, Jean-Luc buried the needle on the outskirts of the city towards the veritable fortress Garcia had built for himself along the coast. After formulating a loose plan and stealing some transportation, we hadn't said a word to each other, and he drove in a frantic, heavy silence, like a man possessed. In the backseat, I stripped out of the campaign trail pantsuit and struggled into some working clothes, an all-black bodysuit and boots I had stuffed into Jean-Luc's camera bag. As I unbuttoned the remnants of the silk blouse, I caught sight of Jean-Luc watchin' me in the rearview mirror. It was on the tip of my tongue to scold him for not payin' attention to the road, but his haunted eyes reflected the worry and guilt in my own. What had we done? Would we find Remy? What if we were too late?

Climbing back over, I flopped into the front seat beside him. He reached for my hand and brought it to his lips, and I had to stop myself from snatching it away. The last few days had twisted me so far around inside I could barely focus on what we had to do. I was scared for what we would find, or even worse what we wouldn't find, angry at myself, angry at Jean-Luc…the guilt crawled up from the pit of my stomach like a spider.

"We almost there," he murmured.

Unable to answer, I stared miserably out the window at the darkened highway flashing by. A hundred different thoughts and emotions churned just beneath the surface and any one of them threatened to pull me under, to drown me.

Because of my earlier reluctance, because of my embarrassment at what had happened between Jean-Luc and I, we hadn't gotten into contact with the Avengers, which meant no superpowered backup would arrive in time to help us. Jean-Luc had put in a few hurried calls himself, but his contacts were few and far between in the city, and I kind of doubted Alcides the morgue attendant was secretly a ninja assassin. We would be outnumbered and outgunned. The weight of George the bodyguard's glock was heavy in the camera bag and I breathed in silent gratitude that I had been coherent enough to take it.

The bad guys had to know we were comin'. I had pulled hard enough on Sylvia Salt that she was still knockin' around in my head, which meant she was still unconscious, and Garcia would surely be tipped off as soon as he heard of his assistant's condition. Comas were sort of my calling card.

We couldn't run in there with our one gun blazing with any hope of winning the day, subtle and sneaky was the only approach we had left. The estate, a five hundred acre stronghold, bordered the sea. Most of that border wasn't pristine sandy beaches, but sheer, jagged cliffs. According to Salt's brain, a small section of those cliffs was climbable thanks to a rickety staircase cut into the rocks that led to a maintenance tunnel connecting the property to the ocean. This was our planned entry point. The tunnel was gated and alarmed, but rarely guarded due to its precarious position. Even if the code wasn't in my brain, bypassing their system would be child's play to Jean-Luc.

Our stolen vehicle we ditched as close as we could to the estate, out of range of the security cameras, and made our way to the craggy bluffs, dodging stadium spotlights that snaked their way lazily along the shore. The guards on duty stuck closer to the wrought iron fence that surrounded the property, and at the moment we were far enough away to stay hidden. Our end of the tunnel was nearly a half mile from where it began on Garcia's property. The night was cool for Spain, and the salty breeze ran its fingers through my ponytail while we carefully ascended the wobbly stairs.

We reached our access point and I conjured up Sylvia's passcodes, then shut the grate behind us. The tunnel more closely resembled a leaky pipe, but was thankfully tall enough that we could walk upright instead of crawling on our hands and knees. We continued in silence until the pocket of Jean-Luc's jacket vibrated incessantly. He pulled his cellphone free and frowned at the screen.

"What is it?" I whispered, and his frown shifted into that devil smile.

"If we hurry, petite, we got us some help, and maybe a distraction!"

Oh, Lord, the man and his distractions…

He yanked on my arm and we sprinted the remaining length of the tunnel, coming to a breathless halt in the shadows behind the grate, close enough to spot a bakers' dozen of armed guards nestled among the buildings. In the distance, I could see the glittering lights of the main house and the dark outlines of several other mysterious structures, but the one nearest to us had the look of an airplane hangar.

"Jean-Luc," I breathed, but he covered my mouth with his hand and pulled my back against his chest.

"Wait for it," he exhaled in my ear, the rumble of his voice firing up my raw and anxious nerves.

The screech of an oncoming vehicle tore through the night, and Jean-Luc drew a shuddering breath. "Sounds like here come our distraction." Composed, he signaled me to unlock the gate, and the noise grew steadily louder, along with shouts and the sounds of gunfire. From the shadows, we watched a rush of wildly gesturing guards, weapons drawn, sprinting for the other side of the property. There was a final deafening screech of lead-footed brakes, then the wrenching tear of metal. We squeezed through the barely opened maintenance grate and kept the path of our steps to the darkness, but I snuck a careful look backwards.

In the frenzy of the light, a car, a gorgeous swoon-worthy red Ferrari straight out of _Magnum P.I_ , had crashed through the fence surrounding the estate. The pack of guards had circled the smoking wreck and were freeing a man from the driver's seat. I gasped. Alcides the morgue attendant was shoving the guards' hands away and stumbling forward. He looked drunk, or had he been hurt? Before I could help myself, I took a stupid step towards him, but Jean-Luc tugged me the other direction.

"Let's not waste the chance he gonna give us, petite."

I moved with him, but spared another glance over my shoulder. Most of the guards had moved very near the crumpled car, having a good laugh at the expense of the apparent idiot who had crashed a hundred thousand dollar vehicle in a drunken stupor. A couple of the men were trying to keep Alcides upright, but Jean-Luc's friend pitched headlong onto the ground a split second before the mangled metallic wreck blew sky high, the resulting fireball engulfing the guards and buildings closest to it.

We scrambled behind the corner of the hangar to escape the light and heat, and watched as absolute chaos erupted. Guards screamed and burned, and more poured from other buildings, floodlights bathing that section of the estate in a smoky orange glow. Alcides was fucked, but I couldn't let an innocent man, well, sort of innocent if he knew Jean-Luc, die because of us.

"We've got to help him!" I snarled, but Jean-Luc motioned back to the scene with his chin.

"Alcides don't need to be saved, petite. He'll keep them busy for us."

Whipping my head around, I scanned the growing madness. Through the flames and smoke, all I saw were Garcia's hired goons, Alcides nowhere to be found. The question on my lips was drowned out when another neighboring building shattered in an ear-splitting roar of rippling heat.

Jean-Luc merely shrugged. "Every man has his hobbies, explosives just happen to be his."

I was dumbfounded, but he motioned us onward and I could do nothing but follow. According to Ms. Salt's mind, they weren't keeping Remy in the main house. In addition to being a perverted prick, Garcia was a first class bigot and hadn't wanted a filthy mutie hanging around his house until Tombstone had come to collect. Instead, they had Remy holed up in the hangar, and you bet your sweet ass the guards surrounding Gambit hadn't left their post, explosion or no. One sneaky look in the window proved me right. A half dozen men with semi-automatics and itchy trigger fingers were visible under the harsh overhead lighting of the hangar's open space, circling around a body slumped in a chair. My heart jumped into my throat. _Remy!_ He looked to be unconscious and his face was decorated with dried crimson streaks.

My own world went red with a fury that shook me to my core. I was about done with subtle and sneaky. Time to take a page from the book of Wolverine and kick some serious ass, those bastards deserved a world of hurt for what they had done to my love, but I knew deep down that I was the one who had hurt Remy the worst.

Jean-Luc pulled me under the windowsill and withdrew our one and only gun from the pocket of his jacket. "Here's what we gonna do." He checked the sights on the weapon. "I'll come in the backside and draw their fire. You go in here. I'll make sure they still be gunnin' for me while you untie Remy."

It was a lousy plan, I didn't know how we weren't gonna end up shot or how the hell we were gonna get out if we did manage to free Remy in one piece, but it was all we had. Jean-Luc held the side of my face and kissed my forehead before he slunk away. I crab-walked towards my entrance and listened for his shots over the shouts and roars of Alcides' fiery distraction. I hoped Jean-Luc was right and that his associate would evade Garcia's guards, because lord help him if they had gotten ahold of him.

Gunshots came from the hangar, followed by screams and an answering volley. I slid open the heavy door just a crack. Though small for an airplane hangar, the garage was still enormous. A silent Cessna was parked inside, and all the tools and equipment associated with an auto repair shop lined the interior of the building.

My eyes found Remy wilting in a hard backed chair, his hands and feet bound. Jean-Luc had been right, Remy was alone and ignored for the moment while the men charged with guarding him dealt with a more immediate threat.

Whether by accident of because of fantastic aim, Jean-Luc's shots had shattered a few of the lights above our end of the hangar. Wonderful. Mood lighting. I crawled forward over broken glass and prayed that the guards would stay distracted until I got Remy untied and out the door. After that…? I had to choke it all down, couldn't let myself go there, not until he was safe.

With trembling hands I found Remy's wrists, and he stirred beneath my touch.

"It's me, sugar!" I stretched my face to him and tore off the blindfold, then moved my hands back to his. From somewhere nearby, Jean-Luc bellowed in pain and my stomach did a backflip.

"Anna!" Remy moaned and held his cheek against mine.

I couldn't get his hands free, not without hurting his mangled fingers even more, so I moved to his feet. More shots, more shouts, Jean-Luc must still be breathin', but I started to panic when I had to pull Remy's boots off to work the zip ties off his ankles. I couldn't move fast enough and he was wearin' another damn Genoshan collar.

"Can you walk? We have to move." By my count, Jean-Luc's clip was gonna run out soon. I hauled Remy to his feet. He leaned on me heavily, I didn't know if I could keep him upright, but we hadn't taken more than a few steps when a thick hand grabbed my arm and wrenched it behind me. Remy dropped from my grasp with a thud, and I spun and delivered a solid punch with my free hand. It hit home in a grunted rush of breath from my attacker, one of the guards, and I followed it with a knee and another punch when he fell. I lugged Remy to his feet again.

Around us, more floodlights snapped on, bathing the hangar in the blinding light of an interrogation. Remy fell to his knees, and, seeing nothing but purple spots, I covered his broken body protectively with my own. I couldn't see a damned thing, but the blood curdling sound of whispered, malicious laughter echoed off the sheet metal walls.

"Well, ain't this cozy."

A beast of a man took shape in front of my eyes, the skin that covered his rippling muscles white as snow. He smiled with a mouthful of gleaming, razor-sharp fangs, red eyes dancing wickedly, and instead of a nose, there were two gaping holes that led straight into his skull. Tombstone.

"Glad you could join the party, sweetheart," the bastard smirked.

The sound of a struggle grew closer, and what was left of the men guarding Remy threw a bleeding Jean-Luc down next to us.

"Holy shit!" Tombstone's voice was the rasp of a nail file. "The father, too? This just keeps gettin' better and better!" He bent down for Remy, but I leapt between them, and a still conscious Jean-Luc rolled over to take my place shielding Remy's injured body.

"Don't you touch him!" I spat, but the son of a bitch laughed and swatted me like a fly. I flew through the air and crashed sideways into a red toolbox along a nearby wall, my head banging painfully against the metal. I felt the spreading warmth of blood near my temple, and lurched clumsily when I tried to stand.

"Don't worry, gorgeous," the villain sneered over his shoulder, "your turn'll come." Tombstone kicked Jean-Luc away and picked Remy up by his shirtfront. "What'd I tell you, LeBeau, 'bout what happens when you fuck with me and mine?"

Jean-Luc jumped to his feet, quickly dispatching the last guards, and launched himself at the big baddie. He even managed to land a few good licks, but he was hurt, I could see the spreading stain of blood on his shoulder, and Tombstone's brick of a fist connected with the sickening crunch of bone. Jean-Luc collapsed in an unmoving heap.

Fuck. My fuzzy brain churned up everything I knew about the asshole as I struggled to regain my footing. Tombstone had started out as just some crazy thug, no superpowers to speak of, until he had come into contact with a chemical that had given him unbreakable skin. _Skin._ I laughed out loud and swerved unsteadily back to them. Now _skin_ was something I knew a little about.

He had Remy by the collar again, and I threw my gloves to the ground and flung myself at his back. Tombstone was tall, seven feet of fright, but I got a lucky arm around his neck and my bare hands on his face. He kept one hand at Remy's throat and pawed for me with the other.

"You're really startin' to piss me off, sweetheart," he growled, but I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled with my powers for all they were worth.

A numb feeling crept up my hands to my arms and beyond, agony so ice cold it burned right through me. Tombstone's mind was a tortured mess. What had he become? Whatever he had done to himself, he wasn't human, not anymore. He bucked and roared, shaking Remy like a rag doll, and clawed at me, tried to rip me away, but I held on tight even as I was losing myself to his pain and madness. The frozen numbness had spread from my arms to my chest and neck, and my mind was drowning in his evil thoughts and deeds. The monster got off on other people's misery. I was gonna have to bleach my brain or scratch my eyes out to get rid of what he was puttin' in my head.

One memory, fresh, thick with blood, bobbed to the surface. _Salvador Garcia, playing it cool but clearly shaken, assuring Tombstone his prize awaited, that everything was under control…an explosion, Alcides' distraction, ripping through the still of the night, Garcia's usually composed face shattering, and Tombstone, drinking in the fear rolling off his reluctant cohort, grabbing him by the throat and savagely snapping his neck._ In the real world I gasped and my hold slipped. Tombstone took advantage and got his hands in my hair and I shrieked in surprise. Beneath me, the villain's black shirt glowed a familiar magenta and he froze.

"Let her go," Remy snarled. My scream had brought him back to consciousness, and Tombstone dropped my ponytail. "Get down, chere," Remy ordered. Peeping over Tombstone's broad shoulder as I fell, I stared at Remy. Between the two of them, he and Jean-Luc must have gotten the Genoshan collar off and his hands unbound.

"Ha!" Tombstone barked and squeezed Remy's throat. "Nice try, LeBeau. Unbreakable skin, remember? You can't hurt me."

Remy's red on black eyes found mine, then deliberately motioned away from the villain. I scrambled back, but not before I caught a hint of that devil smile twitching at those perfect lips. Out of thin air, Remy conjured a playing card between his broken fingers, the Queen of Hearts, the card he always saved for last. "On the inside, too, M'sieu Powder?"

I had no earthly idea where he had been hiding that card, but he charged it and jammed it between the fangs of Tombstone's wide open mouth.

"This," with the heel of his damaged hand, Remy thrust up, locking Tombstone's jaw shut with the glowing playing card wedged hard in his teeth, "is what you get for fuckin' wit' me and mine!"

Tombstone scrabbled at his own face, and I dove for Remy. We rolled in a crippled ball across the hangar floor as the twin charges of shirt and card exploded, sending the rush of heat and gore to rain down on us. The headless, shirtless corpse of Lonnie Lincoln Thompson took one shuddering step before it crashed to the ground.

"Damn," Remy groaned from beneath me. "Didn't expect that to actually work."

I sobbed and swallowed him in my arms.


	9. Chapter 9

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Again, thanks to everybody for sticking with me on this story. I know it has not been your typical Romy romance, so I appreciate the encouragement.

This chapter is another difficult one (and mature one for those of you who need the reminder), there's certainly a lot of things that need to be said before we wrap up, so I hope I manage to make it believable and relevant.

Also, don't judge our girl too harshly in this chapter. I doubt you could have said no to him either...

Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

I squeezed and distracted myself by watching the warm water rain down the corded muscles of Remy's bare back. Swirling the washcloth into the bath, I repeated the motion, scrubbing and massaging while dodging the patchwork of cuts and bruises decorating his lithe body.

"Lean back, sugar," I whispered, tucking a lock of soaked hair behind his ear. "I'll get your chest."

Wincing, he settled back against me and sighed. I dropped a quick kiss onto his neck and set to work again. Removing days of filth and blood from his injured body had been a painstaking process. Exhausted, he couldn't stand up on his own long enough to shower, and a sponge bath wouldn't have given him the opportunity to relax his horribly tensed and battered muscles, but he had refused to go to bed before he was clean. This was his second round of water, the first had left a ring of dirt and blood around the edge of my garden-sized tub. After helping him scrub off the worst and cleaning and filling the tub a second time, I had stripped and selfishly climbed in with him, not yet willing to let him out of my sight, too afraid if I let go he would disappear in a puff of smoke.

Tombstone was dead, Garcia, too. Alcides the morgue attendant had joined us in our escape, courtesy of our stolen car. The paid guards at Garcia's estate had been too busy fighting the raging fires left over from those explosive diversions to care about us, and we had hightailed it. Alcides had left my home about an hour ago. In addition to morgue attendant and explosives enthusiast, he had been a military doctor and trauma surgeon in another life, and had patched us all up the best he could. I had a cut above one temple and was sore and stiff, but Jean-Luc had been shot in the shoulder. Thankfully it had gone clean through and he'd be fine, but Remy remained the primary concern. He was drained and dehydrated, bruised and battered, his broken fingers by far the worst of his injuries. Those twisted and taped digits were currently wrapped in Ziploc bags and resting on the porcelain ledge of the bathtub. The stubborn ass had refused pain killers, said he had been out of it for days and didn't want to feel that way anymore. I had been pretty furious at him for ignorin' doctor's orders and not goin' straight to bed, but I had to admit the bath had done wonders for him. His tensed body had been slowly relaxing against mine the longer we soaked. I ran the washcloth up the ridge of his stomach muscles and held him tighter.

"We thought you were dead," I whispered thickly and kissed his shoulder.

His hand covered mine in plastic on his chest and held it still. "So did I."

Alongside the flat, shiny scar he had received thanks to the villain Vargas during our last trip to Valencia, his chest was decorated with a spray of purple bruises. He _had_ been shot underwater before I had lost consciousness, but with blanks equipped with tranquilizers instead of live rounds.

"They fished me out and threw the dummy in." He leaned his head back and rolled his face to mine, smiling softly. "I knew you'd find me, Anna, knew you wouldn't give up."

Despite the heat and steam, my blood ran cold. I _had_ given up. The sight of what I had thought was Remy's dead body had torn me to shreds, and I had let his father try and glue the pieces back together. I didn't even know where to begin. The last few hours had kept me from dredging up the nauseating guilt that was living just under my skin, but now that we were alone, that guilt, that blame, threatened to pull me under. Remy needed to know what had happened in this house, but how could I tell him? Where did I even start? It could wait until morning, I told myself, after he had rested, and after I had figured out what the hell I was gonna say… _oh god_ , what was I gonna do? I was such a coward.

"C'mon, sugar," I eased him forward and carefully emerged from the water. "We need to get you to bed."

His mischievous eyes raked the length of my naked, dripping body, and that devil smile spread across his face, the ol' scoundrel never too far away when it came to Remy LeBeau. "Sounds good t'me, chere." I spotted the head of his erection bobbing through the surface of the bathwater.

Blushing, I hastily wrapped my robe around me. "Sleep, Remy. You need sleep."

He didn't bother hiding the disappointment on his face. "Yes, ma'am."

I got him up and toweled off, focusing on his injuries, trying my best to ignore the firmness of his sculpted body and pretty obvious arousal. He was hurt, I scolded myself, and you had fucked his father. There was no way I was taking Remy to bed, if he'd ever have me again, without telling him about me and Jean-Luc first. If he was gonna hate me, let him hate me for the hideous truth of it all, but tonight was not the night to unburden my guilty conscience. Except, I _was_ technically taking him to my bed. I settled his naked body in between sheets that surely smelled like me and kissed his still damp forehead.

"Sweet dreams, sugar." I moved to stand, but he grabbed my wrist with his injured hand.

"Please don't go," he whispered. "Stay."

In the dark I bit my lip, but climbed back down next to him. "All right." I curled up and ran my fingers lightly along his back and the skin of his arms, hoping to lull his tired body to sleep. Instead, his lips found mine with soft kisses that quickly became more frantic, fraught with longing. Between his broken fingers, he tugged open the ties of my robe.

"Remy!" I gasped and the searing hot palm of his hand pushed the folds of fabric aside and caressed the length of my body.

"All I did was dream of you," he murmured, and dipped his head to nuzzle my bare breasts. "Of making you mine again…"

My head was swimming, my heart pounding madly, and a desire I struggled to ignore was pooling low and warm. The bathtub erection that had never really disappeared pressed urgently against my thigh. Oh, God help me, I wanted him, but what kind of woman did that make me? I loved him with all my heart and soul, but my betrayal would surely earn his hatred. I had told myself I wasn't going to let this happen, not until the air was cleared, but his arms around me were blurring the boundaries I had drawn in my head, just like every time we touched. This wasn't right…I couldn't…we couldn't…

"Remy," I moaned, trying desperately to silence my own throbbing ache, "you're hurt! We can't…" It had been so long since we had been together. I had missed him so much, his absence from my daily life a chronic pain I had never quite learned to manage. Had there been others for him since me? Joelle or some anonymous woman in a bar that I would never meet? His father had shared my bed figuratively if not literally, I was a monster that had no right to question who he had spent his nights with.

He rolled onto his back and brought me along. "If you want," he crooned, "I'll let you do all the work." He maneuvered me on top and the thick length of him knocked loudly at my door.

"Oh, Jesus," I whimpered, not able to fight the longing any longer. He was here, he was alive, he needed me, I needed him, and I loved him…that love still meant something, no matter what I had done…I settled down on him in a slow slide, and we both shuddered at the connection, always so strong between us, like coming home. His taped fingers curled around my hips, and I started swaying slowly, moving his whole length in and out, savoring every stroke, trying my best not to hurt him, but it wasn't long before I lost myself to our rhythm, rocking passionately against him, both of us heaving and panting and sweating.

"Anna…Anna…!" He went impossibly rigid inside of me and thrust upward, the increased friction drawing my own release out of me in an explosion of stars behind my eyes. I felt him go and we climaxed together, crumpling in a pile of weak and satisfied limbs. He held me close against him.

"I love you," he murmured. "Nothin' gonna ever change that."

Sudden tears stung my eyes. "I love you, too." I mumbled. Nothing was ever gonna change that? How I wished I could believe that.

He was asleep in an instant, but my overwrought brain kept me awake replaying the tangled mess of the last few days. With Tombstone and Garcia out of the picture, we seemed to be in the clear. I doubted the authorities could link any of us to the destruction of Garcia's estate, but just to be safe, we needed to leave as soon as Remy was able. After that, I decided I needed to sell this damned house. Valencia had brought me nothin' but pain and misery, though this time a good chunk of my suffering was self-inflicted.

I had to tell Remy. If I couldn't be honest with him, then there was no hope whatsoever of salvaging our love. Almost losing him, again, had made me realize that I didn't want to live without him, but if that was the case, if he spit in my face or worse after hearing the horrible truth of me and Jean-Luc, it was just what I deserved. I _had_ to tell him. I couldn't regret what we had just done, only my inability to confess my sins beforehand, but it was more than that. I was too afraid that when I told him, it would be too much, and that he would cut me from his life forever. I wanted him, so I had taken him. Add selfishness to my cowardice.

Close to sunrise, I gave up on sleep and untangled myself from Remy's arms. Slipping back into my discarded robe, I kissed his forehead and stole silently down the staircase. I could almost see me and Jean-Luc there on the stairs, rutting against each other like animals. I wiped away the shameful tears. Jean-Luc had been right. I didn't deserve his beautiful son and I never had, but I desperately wanted another chance to prove him wrong, to show Remy how much I loved him, to try again, if he'd have me. We were so far from that right in that moment, I would be lucky if Remy even spoke to me again after he found out the truth…

The filtered grey light of the predawn wasn't bright enough to find the coffee pot, so I flicked on the track lighting, but jumped out of my skin. Jean-Luc had been sitting alone in the dark at the kitchen's island. He raised his haggard face from a bottle half full of whiskey. He had showered, but his hair was a ruffled mess and his partially unbuttoned dress shirt revealed the bandages on his shoulder where Garcia's men had shot him.

"Good morning," I said and began the mechanical motions of brewing up a pot of coffee.

"Is it?"

Leaving the brew to fend for itself, I walked hesitantly towards the island. Jean-Luc lowered his eyes and ran a hand across the rough stubble peppering his jaw.

"Did ya get any sleep?"

His dark eyes flicked to mine in an angry flash. "Non. House was a little too… _noisy_." He spat the last word and I felt my skin flush with embarrassment.

My house wasn't a mansion by any means, and all the bedrooms were on the upper floor. I certainly hadn't wanted Remy and I to be overhead, but the look on Jean-Luc's face was more than just irritated, he was hurt, maybe even jealous.

He looked away. "So, that's it then? After everything that happened, you went back to him?"

The question was a shock. I swallowed and hugged myself through the thin silk of my robe. "I love Remy, Jean-Luc."

He flinched at my response, but he was starting to tie my insides into tangled knots. He had known where I stood, hadn't he? I had come on this lousy caper out of love and concern for his son, same as him. In a moment of weakness, of soul-crushing grief, we had turned to each other for comfort, but that was all it had been, right? A mistake, one that would probably ruin my life and destroy Remy's fragile relationship with his father. Wasn't that enough?

"What do you want from me, Jean-Luc?" I asked wearily.

His smile was tight and his usual mask of cocky charm slid back into place, pushing me away. He took a hefty shot of the whiskey in one long, fiery gulp. "I'd ask you what it is you want from me, petite, but I think you already took it."

A rage ripped through me hotter than July and I stalked around the island. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Furious, I wrenched the bottle out of his hand and slammed it on the counter. There had always been an unspoken something between us, neither of us could deny that, but he knew as well as I that nothing would have ever come of it if Remy's corpse hadn't been served up on a stainless steel platter.

He stood, too close to me, his voice miserable. "You took him to your bed…" He brushed the backs of his fingers along my jaw. "What did Remy say," he whispered, "when you told him what happened between us?" I darted my eyes away but he grabbed my chin and forced my gaze to his. "You didn't tell him?" he asked incredulously.

"Let me go," I pleaded and balled up my hand to shove him back, but his fingers dug painfully into my upper arms and he pulled me closer.

"He deserves to know."

"Don't you think I know that?" I cried and struggled against his grip. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Tell him the truth!"

"Oh, like it's just that easy! 'Gee Remy, glad you're not dead! By the way, before you make love to me, did you know your father's a pretty good fuck, too?'"

"A good fuck?" he sneered. "Is that all I was to you?"

I opened my mouth to scream at him again, but a voice stopped us both in our tracks.

"What's goin' on here?"

Jean-Luc and I froze, and I swallowed a panicked sob. On his own, Remy had hobbled downstairs. He was bruised and bare-chested, but had found a pair of pajama pants somewhere in the upstairs bedroom. Remy's eyes hardened and moved between the two of us. Jean-Luc's arms were wrapped around me, and he quickly dropped them to his sides, but it was too late. We looked guilty because we were guilty. Remy needed to know, but not like this! I needed to explain to him what had happened, to make him realize…

"Remy," Jean-Luc turned to face his son. "You have to understand…we thought you were dead…"

Remy's handsome face twisted in disgust. "Is that supposed to make it okay!?" He looked dead on his feet as he stood there and shook with a barely controlled fury.

Without thinking, I stepped towards him. "Remy, you should sit…"

He stiffened and stepped away from my hands, raking his chin length hair back from his face the best he could with his broken fingers. "Don' _touch_ me," he closed his eyes, but the words carved out my heart with a dull spoon, my own familiar words from years ago thrown back at me. He was so hurt, so wounded, and we were still cuttin' him to pieces. His ruby eyes snapped open and burned into mine. "Go upstairs," he croaked. I bristled, my temper suddenly jumping into my throat at his dismissal, but Remy's face colored with rage. _"GO!"_ he barked.

I clenched my jaw, but backed out of the kitchen, quaking with every step. Upstairs, I slammed the bedroom door and paced the floor furiously. My imagination raced with thoughts of what was happening between the two of them downstairs, especially when I heard the roar of raised voices. After a gut-wrenching while, there were heavy footsteps, and a pale Remy stepped through the bedroom door, closing it behind him. He didn't look at me, but sat on the edge of the bed.

"Sit," he directed and held out a hand to me. Trembling, I took it gingerly, careful of his fingers, and balanced next to him.

We sat in silence and I held his palm between mine, staring numbly at his twisted fingers. They hadn't been reset soon enough, Alcides had said, and they may have been permanently damaged. I wanted him to say something, anything was better than his silence, but anxiety shredded my already frayed nerves as I awaited his judgement. How could I have hurt him like this?

He exhaled slowly next to me. "What happened?" he asked quietly and my jaw dropped.

"Remy," I shook my head in disbelief. He couldn't want…details? There was no way…"I can't…"

He reached up and traced a crippled finger along my cheek. "Anna, just…tell me what happened. _Please._ " His eyes were open wounds, hurt, betrayed, but there was still love there, still hope.

I owed him the truth, as simple and complicated as that. I sighed, closed my eyes, and walked him through the living nightmare of the last few days, some of it a washed out blur, other parts vividly burned into my subconscious by a branding iron, scars I would never be rid of.

"I was knocked unconscious too, underwater. Jean-Luc fished us both out, and when I came to, you were _gone_. Or, we thought you were." Though I tried, I couldn't stop the tears that snaked down my cheeks as my mind replayed the horrifying images that had all been just a cruel deception, but I kept going. "Seeing you lying there, it was like something broke open inside of me…I…you were _dead_ …" my voice broke on the last word and I had to take a few deep breaths before I could continue. How could I explain to him how lost I had been? How lost both of us had been? The anger Jean-Luc and I had felt, the pain? The desperation? It had shattered us, sent us scrambling for something, anything to hold onto…there was a part of me that hadn't wanted to live without him, and one look in Remy's eyes told me that this, at least, he understood. Since we had met, there had always been somethin' strong and true and deep between us, a connection that couldn't fully be explained with words. Neither of us had ever loved like we loved each other, and no matter the obstacle we had always found our way back to each other, but would that still be the case? Could our love survive this? Could any love? Did I even deserve his forgiveness for what I had done?

"We…we ran away from Garcia's goons, they started shooting at us and we had to leave you for the authorities to find, Jean-Luc dragging me away kicking and screaming. We made it back here, and we argued…we were both so angry…so shocked…we fought…we…we weren't very nice to each other, said some things that can't be unsaid. I hit him…slapped him over and over, wanted him to hurt like I was hurting. I was so _empty_ inside…my chest…I just wanted to feel something, anything but…I don't know how it happened. One second we were clawing each other's eyes out, the next…" I couldn't finish the story and swallowed the rest of my sentence.

Without a sound, Remy released my hand and left the room.


	10. Chapter 10

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: This is our last chapter folks! It's been sort of a roller-coaster for our favorite Southerners, but I felt like it just needed to come to an end in as good a place as I can leave them. This was another one of those chapters I just couldn't stop messing with, which seems to be a sign to just post the blasted thing and be done with it, but let me know what you think. Did I pull them too far apart to bring them back together? That was definitely a challenge while writing this one, but for me, the love between the characters will always connect them and lead them home.

Thanks again to SDiablo for the awesome idea and for pushing me out of my comfort zone, and thanks to everybody else for reading and reviewing, you all keep me on my toes!

See you next time!

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

After a few uneasy hours, Remy found me as I was getting out of the shower. I was turned towards the mirror, towel wrapped around me, when I heard the click of the bathroom door, and I caught his eyes in the mirror's reflection. He looked tired, worn, and there were heavy lines etched across his handsome face, but he looked resigned. There had been more shouting downstairs after he had left my room, and I didn't want to think of what that meant for us, but his eyes told me he had come to say his peace.

He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but his red on black eyes bulged wide in shock. "Merde!" He stared at my backside in horror.

Confused and a little offended, I tried to face him, but he came up behind me and gripped my shoulders to keep me turned away from him, while his gaze swept back and forth across my skin.

"Chere, why didn't you tell me you were this hurt?" he breathed, the conversation he had been prepared to have forgotten for the moment.

Again, I tried to twist from his grasp. "I'm fine, Remy." He was the one who had been hurt, inside and out.

"No, you're not. Tombstone threw you across that hangar. You not invulnerable anymore, you know. Your back is nothing but bruises."

Tugging the towel further down, his fingers danced a stilted dance over my shoulder blades and hips, and he turned me partially so I could see what he was talking about. I choked on a gasp. Two even rows of deep indigo contusions marched across my back and hips in sickeningly uniform lines.

"Mon dieu! It looks like somebody hit you with a baseball bat!" He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me against his chest, my damp towel between us. "I'm not sorry I killed that chalky son of a bitch!" he spat.

My hand darted to the gash near my temple, my souvenir from our fight with Tombstone. "It wasn't…" I froze. My _side_ had crashed into that damned toolbox last night, not my back. Those bruises could only have come from my staircase tango with Jean-Luc, the marks yet another reminder of one of the worst nights of my life. Had Remy been so out of it before that he hadn't noticed, or had the purple horrors bloomed overnight?

"Wasn't _what_?" he asked quietly, but I felt his breath catch.

I chanced another look at him in the mirror and saw that he was fixated on my shoulder, where there was another collection of guilty bruises and the perfect violet impression of teeth. With outstretched fingers, he lined up his broken digits over the marks in a near perfect match.

"He… _he_ did this?" he croaked and backed away from me.

I was shaking, still wet from my shower, rivulets of the now cold water threading their way under my towel and down my skin, but I couldn't bear to move.

He shut his eyes and pressed his palms into the sides of his head. "What am I supposed to do here, Anna?" he groaned in angry frustration. "What!?"

Tears stung my eyes and I had to look away from him. "I don't know, Remy." Hugging myself to stop the shivers, I dropped my head and let the shame, the guilt, roll over me. This was all my fault, I told myself, I deserved this. Whatever his judgement, I had earned it.

Like always between us, he made the first move and stepped back to me, lifting my chin with a taped finger. "I thought I knew." Those ruby orbs were an ocean of regret and I bit back a sob. "I thought I had it all figured out, 'specially after last night. Meant it, even now, when I said nothin' was gonna change my love for you." He wiped a tear from my cheek. "I think that part of me even…understands. This isn't your fault, I know that. This isn't your fault. You thought I was dead. Believe me when I say that I understand what that feels like, the anger, the emptiness, you look for anything to fill that void. Drink, drugs, the touch of someone else…when I thought Belle had died, you and I weren't quite…let's just say, if it was the other way 'round, if I had lost you…" he couldn't finish the thought and leaned his forehead closer to rest against mine. "Part of me is glad neither of you was alone." With his hand on either side, he raised my face to his again, those eyes suddenly fierce. "But, the other part of me? Every time I close my eyes, I imagine his hands on you…touching you, hurting you…I can hear your sighs, see you together…" His expression twisted in tortured revulsion. "Knowing it happened is bad enough, but trying not to imagine it, to put it out of my head…I can't…"

I covered his hands with mine. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you, Remy," I simply said, but his laugh was harsh.

"Should you be? We ain't together, chere, and haven't been for months. I understand how it could have happened, just don't know if I can ever forget it."

"Is this it then?" I asked, unable to control my shaking voice or body. "Is that what you came in here to tell me, that it's over?"

He opened his mouth to answer, his face strained, clearly at war with himself, but instead of responding with words, he crashed his lips possessively into mine. He inhaled sharply and parted my lips with his tongue, the palms of his hands traveling over my back and down to press my hips against his.

"Non!" He pulled away from me, his eyes tightly closed, his breath ragged, the battle for his heart etched across the features of his beautiful face. " _Non._ It can't be over between us…I don't want it to be, not when I just found you again. This isn't okay, and I can't say it's finished, or that it's not gonna take time to work through this, but I always said the past wouldn't stop us. I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you, and I will love you forever. No smooth talk, no lies, no regrets, nothing will stop me from loving you, as plain and simple as that. I won't punish you for a moment of weakness, but…I want to understand how… _why_ …help me understand, chere… _please_ …"

His mouth met mine again, but this kiss was different, soft and fragile, an unspoken question. Answering without words, I wound my fingers through his hair and deepened the kiss. I didn't want it to be over either. I loved him with all my heart and soul, it had taken almost losing him to show me just how much. I would spend the rest of our lives proving it to him if that was what it took, but I knew he meant it when he said he wouldn't punish me for my past. I was the one who had never let him forget every indiscretion, every wrong step, something else for me to feel guilty about. I didn't deserve him or his forgiveness, but I would sure as hell try if he'd let me.

Backing us against the vanity's counter, Remy tossed away my towel, and his hands began roaming my body, exploring, his fiery touch sliding smoothly along my skin while I rolled my curves against him. His mouth moved down my throat to graze my collarbone, then to the valley between my breasts, trailing his kisses to each peak. The swirling of his tongue sent a pleasurable tingle low and tight, but it was the motions of his hips that had me seeing stars. He was thick and stiff and so close, I just wanted him inside of me, needed to feel him again to know he and his love were real, that this wasn't just some dream and I would wake up and find him gone again...Raising his head from my chest, he gripped me under my bare behind with his poor broken fingers and hoisted me onto the edge of the vanity counter, settling himself between my legs and shaking his pajama pants to the floor. True to form, he wasn't wearing any boxers underneath. He sprang into my hands and I watched his scorching eyes while I stroked him, his palms sliding along my thighs, his uninjured thumb finding the warm wetness that waited between them. I rocked my hips, but he stilled them and kept his touch moving in slow circles.

"I'm _yours_." He pushed himself to my entrance. "And you're _mine_. That's how it's always been, how it always will be. There is nothing and no one in this world that will take you away from me again." I nodded and held his gaze as he entered me, filling me, our bodies moving together in a slow, delicious rhythm. He was real, he was alive…I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his slim waist, and he lifted my hips, driving himself further inside me, reclaiming every inch of me. I leaned back and ran my fingers along his chest, down the rippling and tensed muscles of his stomach, committing every bare inch to memory, watching the length of him slide in and out of me. The only sounds were our ragged breathing and the liquid slick of my mounting arousal.

It started slow, sweet, but soon enough our breath quickened, and he pumped harder to match, grinding against me in a relentless frenzy. I wanted to hold on, to make the moment last forever, but he was unraveling me inside, making me lose control. The pleasure rolled over me in waves, with each thrust he crashed against my walls, breaking me down, the pressure building inside me until it burst wide open. I screamed his name and shuddered around him in total surrender.

"Mon Dieu, you so beautiful when you _come_ ," he whispered savagely and dug his palms into my hips. He groaned and closed his eyes, and his expression become one of absolute ecstasy as he pounded like a man possessed. I was still coming down from my own orgasm when he roared, and I felt him explode inside of me.

* * *

I woke to find his smiling eyes watching over me. We had moved to the bed last night and fallen asleep in each other's arms.

With a soft touch, he brushed the tousled hair from my forehead. "Bonjour, Anna."

I kissed that gorgeous smile lightly, part of me still scared silly he'd up and disappear, that this was some wonderful dream and that I'd wake to the nightmare of a world without him. "Morning, sugar." At least I thought it was morning. I had no idea what time it was, and the soft light filling the room could just as easily have been from the sunset. The thick stubble on his cheek was rough beneath my hand, the reality of him better than any dream could ever have been. He had survived. We had survived, but everything we were avoiding lay between us in the bed.

Remy excused himself to the adjoining bathroom and I stood and stretched my arms over my head, my body pleasantly sore. Sunrise, judging by the direction of the light through the windows, we had been asleep for hours. I found my robe hanging on the back of the closed bathroom door and wrapped it around myself, stepping towards the brightly illuminated panes of glass.

The enormity of the last few days crashed back, knocking the wind out of me. Remy was mine, and I was his. After all the pain we had inflicted on one another, the love we had for each other, strong and true and deep, still made it worth it to him, just like it always had to me. I wasn't naïve. I knew the road ahead was gonna be hard, but, good or bad, we had always challenged each other. That was what I loved about him, his fire, his passion for life. He didn't complete me, he complemented me, and he felt the same. I would die before I ever hurt him again. He loved me, but I knew forgiveness would be a long time coming, from him, but also from myself. How had a teasing flirtation exploded in a tangle of arms and legs on a staircase? I couldn't blame it all on grief, though it had certainly pushed me there. We had so much to deal with, so many wrong steps between us over the years, but neither of us was walking away this time. We would face it all head on, it would just take time.

Sighing, I slid my hands into the pockets of my robe. My fingers froze when they brushed a folded sheet of paper hidden in the depths. Pulling it free, I recognized my name written in the elegant scrawl of Jean-Luc's handwriting.

I hadn't seen him since yesterday, hadn't wanted to ask what had happened or where he was, too afraid any mention of him would shatter the fragile peace Remy and I had found, but I had been desperately trying not to think of the look in Jean-Luc's eyes the last time he had held me in his arms. When had he put a note in my pocket? It hadn't been there last night. Had he come into my room while Remy and I slept, saw us together? Trembling, I sat on the edge of the sheet tangled bed and opened the note with shaking fingers.

 _"Anna,"_ it read,

" _Forgive a foolish old man his fantasies. I treated you disgracefully, and had no right to expect more than you were willing to give._

 _Your heart, stubborn, beautiful, so full of life, has always belonged to someone else. I thought that I could pull off the greatest heist of my life and steal it for myself, but I was wrong, and I'm truly sorry that my selfishness nearly cost you everything you hold dear. That was not my intention, but then I never expected to fall in love._

 _I am headed home to New Orleans, but know that I've left a piece of my heart with you if you ever wish to retrieve it._

 _Always,_

 _Jean-Luc"_

The hand holding the letter dropped listlessly into my lap, the other covered the great, heaving groan that escaped my lips. Oh, sweet merciful Jesus…how had I ever let it go so far? He _loved_ me? Was that what he called it? I had no idea, but it was a love I didn't return, and I felt a renewed pang of guilt for the near ruin our behavior had brought to us all.

Remy came out of the bathroom. "Was thinking we could make some breakfast if there's fixings downstairs. What you think, chere?"

I didn't answer, but lifted tear-filled eyes to meet his.

He started in surprise and knelt in front of me, his freshly taped fingers caressing my knees. "Anna, chere, what is it?"

No secrets, Remy LeBeau had once said to me in an abandoned Seattle theatre. No secrets, and no shame. Swallowing hard, I handed him Jean-Luc's letter. He frowned and stood to read it, turning his handsome face in profile, reminding me of the morning after his supposed death, and Jean-Luc sitting at that same windowsill while he contemplated the sunrise.

Leaning his forearm on the glass, Remy kept his back turned to me, but hung his head, crumpling the letter in his fist. "You and me, Anna. You sure this is what you want?"

My mouth went dry and I jumped to my feet, wrapping my arms fiercely around his waist from behind. "Yes!" I cried. "I've never been surer of anything in my life! I love you, Remy! We belong together!"

He twisted around, his fingers resting gently on my already bruised shoulders, and pulled me to his lips. "I think I just needed to hear you say it," he sighed when we parted, leaning his forehead against mine.

"Remy, I never wanted to come between you and your father…"

Tracing my jaw with his thumb, he exhaled in a shudder. "I know that, chere, but truly, there hasn't been much between him and me for a long time, and that wasn't because of you. I'll have to deal with him, one way or another, but not today." He tucked my head under his chin and rocked me slowly in his warm embrace. "All that matters, mon amour, is you and me, here and now, and forever."

"I like the sound of that, Swamp Rat," I smiled through tears and kissed him soundly on his sweet, warm lips, so full of life and love.

Forever. Never had one simple word filled me with so much hope.

 **The End**


End file.
